


Falling Out of Fashion

by Typosmyown, zhong_truly



Category: 1D - Fandom
Genre: AU, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Betrayal, Blowjobs, Bottom Louis, Fashion AU, Fingering, Harry Styles Has a Large Cock, Hung Liam, Hung Zayn, M/M, Mistaken Louis, Models, Plot With Porn, Porn With Plot, Rimming, Rough Sex, Slow Burn, Slutty Louis, Top Harry, Twink Louis, Twink Louis with Sass, everyone tops with Louis, hung harry, love-to-hate dynamics, not a victim Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:00:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 42,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23497174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Typosmyown/pseuds/Typosmyown, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhong_truly/pseuds/zhong_truly
Summary: Harry Styles has been the established face of the Grimshaw House of Design for two years. It’s a prestigious and coveted modeling contract Harry took away from once-famed supermodel Zayn Malik. With the model transition Grimshaw’s designs went from a more urban, Zayn-forward aesthetic, to a Harry-favoring flowery, flowing femininity in the Grimshaw designs for men.So when Harry sees a dress Grimshaw made for a famous Marvel actress, “only a tease”, Nick says, of the evolving look, Harry knows Grimshaw is shifting his aesthetic.Harry wonders if he can pull off the look.Or could Grimshaw be looking for a new face?
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Zayn Malik/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 60
Kudos: 126





	1. First Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mood boards corresponding to chapters @ http://palosquared.tumblr.com/

Tessa walking the red carpet wearing That dress was a shock to Harry.

He’d thought all this time the dress Nick was planning for the Marvel actress was based on the fills and lace, the sheer fabrics and the style of Harry Styles which has been the direction of all of Grimshaw’s pieces for two years now. 

When Harry watched Tessa on the screen, the only remnant of what pieces he recognizes is the color and fabric Nick would select for a Harry Styles’ styling. It is like the soft green draped half of Tessa’s dress reflects Nick was thinking of Harry as his muse. 

The other half?

Same green but, no not Harry’s style. It seemed more athletic-foward. And certainly, while conveying strength, said it said bondage. Maybe hinting at sub.

Harry has built his career on putting himself out there in clothes that speak of femininity in his heart while making himself known to be masculine in the bedroom. The dress Tessa wore to the awards? It is like it was one dress made for two entirely different people. 

What does this mean?

***FIRST LOVE*** 

Harry digs out the box of old treasures hidden in the back of his closet. He’s not sure why he kept the assorted memorabilia. Things from his adolescence that his mum insists might have value to him someday.

Opening the box he sorts through it until he finds his childhood diary.

What was once a project, advised by an acquired counselor following his father’s death, became an outlet for expression that he carried through the years. He keeps the leather bound journal to this day. For now, he jots down bits and pieces of random thoughts, moods, expressions. In some ways, these fragments of his ideas are his hand at poetry or lyrics, along with an occasional sketch.

But having met Louis yesterday has left Harry wondering. Wondering why he thinks he has met Louis before. Into the diary Harry goes, his eleven-year old self revisited.

Actually, it was at eleven when Harry’s modeling career had begun. He possessed an androgynous beauty; his developing sea of curls, eyes rival pools of green, and his enviously distractive shaped mouth and lips. His cherub face. The combination made him a recognizable one-of-a-kind beauty.

One of his earliest modeling opportunities, of which he has embedded in ink and pages of his diary, may provide the answer he seeks to a knawling question 

The particular photo shoot took place at a private club where he would model boy’s swimwear for a country-wide sales campaign. It was fortuitous thing that the day was hot, unusually so for the time of year. The location was the perfect resort club backdrop, adorned with an olympic sized pool ringed with lounge chairs and colorful umbrellas. The shimmering water and bright sun provided striking contrast to the colorful array of swim trunks Harry would model.

The event created a start to an obsession that would be nurtured for over a year, at the time. At a tender moment then, he had his first case of “love”.

“ _I had a booking today that I was really excited about. It wasn’t in some studio inside with a bun_ ch _of old people, but instead outside! My mum took me to this fancy club for it. Everything in its right place, a huge pool, diving boards, and a couple little slides for the children in shallow water._

 _The photographer had been considerate. He didn’t like the heat so he worked fast. My mum said we were done early, given the atmosphere and staff on set. We were able to_ _stay and enjoy the club a bit. I wished I could have shared the experience with friends, instead of bragging about it later. Gemma came with, but she and mum took some chairs to absorb the sun._

 _There had been older boys who took the time to hang out in the deep part of the pool. They were playing a rough game of water polo or something like it. I watched them for a while and hoped for an invitation because of my proximity. They didn’t notice me. But these two little girls, who were hanging off the_ _edge of the pool and close to the roughly playing boys, did._

_They ask loads of questions. They thought of me as a proper model and wanted to know more. The littlest one, Fizzy, wanted to show me where she skinned her knee, but her sister, Lottie, said not to take the bandaid off or she couldn’t be in the pool._

_Lottie talked about painted fingernails. My sister paints mine all the time, they were amused by such a fact._

_They talked at the same time. It made me dizzy, then they stopped abruptly and looked past me. Behind me was one of the lads, who was playing polo, with the ball in hand. Up close he didn’t look as old as I thought the group were. I guessed he was nearly my age._

_The girls shouted, “Louie,” like they were super happy to see this boy._

_He smiled at me and I felt... I don’t know how to say what it was. I felt sick. And happy. A mix of both. Sick and HAPPY._

_He wondered who I was. He addressed me as 'Their Friend' when he asked about me. I was glad he asked them because my tongue felt too big in my mouth and my throat was dry. As for my name, I forgot upon looking at him._

_His friends left the pool, since their game was suspended. They chose to eat snacks in the meantime._

_This Louie is Lottie and Fizzy’s older brother._ _He says my name after the girls give it to him and the way he says it made me giddy. I don’t know why. The water was warm. It’s a heated pool. Maybe I shivered because of how he looked at me, into my eyes. It was longer than I could stand. I don’t know why. Him looking at me made my heart beat funny._

_Handing the ball to Lottie, Louie easily gets out of the water at the pool edge without steps. He boost himself up with his arms. I could see he is very athletic. I became a bit self conscious, wishing my tongue would function accordingly. Is he my age? He acts older. He looks my age. His friends are older. Again my throat is so dry._

_Sitting on the edge with his feet in the water, I can see how much Louie looks like his little sisters. Pretty for a boy. I often hear people say that to my mum about me too. They say that I am too pretty for a boy. I think Louie could do what I do. The thing I noticed is how Louie is so tan. My skin is not. But his is like caramel candy, and his eyes are the bluest thing I’ve seen yet. He maintains impeccable eye contact and I show symptoms of incredible nervousness._

_Louie thanks me for playing with his sisters. He’s great with them. They talk synchronized about all that crosses there mind. How he hears anything they are say, I don’t know._ _They want of something, that Louie can't provide, but it blurred out by his want for us two to speak alone!_

_Louie says that and looks at my eyes. His eyes staring at mine. My heart beats faster, my throat goes more dry, and I feel really sick._

_I was so stupid! All I said was that I felt sick and swam to the steps of the pool, needing to go running away._

_I wanted to hide, and I did!_

_I stayed hidden for a while, admittedly. Gemma made me come out of the closet where I was with cleaning supplies._

_The first thing I see when exit is her walking toward our mum. Beside our mum in conversation wearing a big sun hat like my mum is this woman with a sundress over a swim suit, she appears pregnant. Lottie and Fizzy at her side. The two women look to be friends. I look for Louie._

_I see him standing at the edge of the pool, with his mates laughing. Louie has golden skin, styled with his particular hair color, and his blinding blue eyes. While his friends have pimples like teens, Louie does not. He has no marks on his skin. I wonder if he notice my imperfections, like my extra nipple? Anything really._

_I don’t know how long I stared at them. Gemma called my name and waving for me to join her, Lottie, Fizzy, and our mothers. That made me look away when all of a_ _sudden half the boys were pushed into the pool. The ones still standing with Louie begin to wrestle him into the air. The three of them lifting Louie only to toss him way out in the pool._

_I missed it, but I think Louie may have pushed four of them in. The others working as a team to toss him in. Louis must be a playful lad. He comes up from the deep laughing. I think he loves the attention. I also think all the other lads love Louie. Everybody loves Louie based on the looks he received. His own towards me had felt as keen._

_I want to be like him. Brave. Playful...**_ *”

Harry been reading this while sitting in the closet. When he gets to the break in the diary. He gets off the floor with the diary in hand. Though he hasn’t looked at this diary in years he knows if he turns the page there will be a picture. Not a good one, but one he had drawn of Louie before. The boy who developed such a great infatuation from Harry. Writing little innocent fantasies about Louie and him. Nothing of his fantasies were mature ideas about the lad, Harry’s preferences in that realm wouldn’t define until some years later, long after he began kissing girls and finding that they weren’t as interesting to him as those among his sex.

But this is Louie from the pool.

Harry sits down on his couch, and with his thumb marking his place, he opens the diary again. He turns the page.

There it is. An eye and an eyebrow. It’s very amateur, however, in Harry’s diary there was an his attempt at interpreting the shape and color of characteristics that filtered his dreams. It takes time before he is released by the shackles of this first love and thrown into another.

Harry is amused at his concentrated effort to get the pigment of the eye right back then. He used a blend of colored pencils to do so. So certain that the drawing of the eye is a perfect match to the pair of eyes he met today. He has become a grown man in his twenties and has traveled the world. He’s seen the ocean in every shade of blue. None of the seas has left him gasping for air like the color of this eye.

Then why does he hate Louis Tomlinson so?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please welcome Zhong_truly!  
> If you find you are enjoying less of my Typos, as I am too, know that it is all thanks to Zhong_truly!  
> Oh, and yes, the calendar of when events written into this fiction are a matter of convenience for creating the fantasy...‘cause it’s only fiction. This story makes no assumptions the avatars represent real individuals.
> 
> Enjoy. Stay safe. Share what you can with others in need.
> 
> ***

The afflicting hatred Harry felt began the week prior.

He was at home watching the red carpet show that proceeds the Academy Awards. For Harry, the Awards is more about “the who” that the actors and actresses are wearing rather than who wins what. He likes to study the actors’ presence, composure, how they walk, whether they can represent the designer who they wear properly, or not.

Harry knew ahead of the awards that Nick was dressing Marvel actress, Tessa Thompson, however, her gown's appearance remained a mystery. Not before she walked it at the Oscars. Then again, every time Harry was at Nick’s studio recently, the visit addressed the look he was going to wear the following weekend for his red carpet venue at the Met Gala.

After watching the red carpet show proceeding the Oscars, Harry was propelled to go to Nick’s studio because of his surprise in seeing Tessa’s gown for the first time. The Met Gala is always such a massive publicity event. Harry wanted nothing other than the best look for him from Nick. The moment her frame tutted to the center of the screen, the man on the couch had to squint, take a moment to truly concentrate and think.

It was as if her gown and his garment were made by two different designers. His flashy and glam, which shamed her basic green ensemble lacked cohesion and he supposed so did the man behind the creations. Harry needed to be sure the Nick was sticking to the two looks they had agreed on; one for the Gala and one for the afterparty.

What the designer had lined up for Harry to present at the awards is truly one only celebrity model, Harry Styles, could pull off. “ _The Styles of Harry Styles_ ” had been a branded expression ever since Harry soared to popularity, outshining the even Nick Grimshaw who coined him for being the face of Grimshaw. The ingenious mind from whom all the creativity came, was soon overshadowed by the appeal and popularity of his gorgeous, star model Harry Styles.

Every stitch for the red carpet look was tailored uniquely for Harry’s ideal niche of androgyny. Masculinity becomes tricky whenever feminine is interlaced. Harry’s prior looks were never interpreted as flagrant as he paves the way for transformative gender statements within the field. It was best described as nuanced-gender fluid. Still controversial decisions, wearing earrings and painted nails, Harry has been able to find success in his raw persona. Men want to imitate him. Anyone, just from the exposure to him, would want to bed him.

Although aware of the alert, of a text from Nick about the following morning for a final fitting, seeing Tessa caused great anxiousness of waiting until then. Luckily, Nick often works late at his studio because evenings are his quoted "most productive time.” Harry decided on an impromptu drop-in.

Sure enough, pulling into the parking garage, Harry saw the sleek black jaguar that Nick usually drives. Harry’s impact on Nick’s brand made for two years on unprecedented profits. Nick had accumulated more than a few expensive cars thanks to Harry.

Entering the floor that houses a series of rooms that are various assistant designers, makeup artists, stylists, and in house employees that are on hand for all the aspects of fashion, Harry passed the office of photographer Liam Payne’s. Liam who also worked late this evening; if the modern and quality lights- streaming from the office- were any indication. A large computer monitor's active screen suggesting Liam was in the process of photographing.

Liam has been Nick’s lead photographer almost exclusively, despite being credited as one of the best eyes for fashion photography, which fuels competition among other successful designers who wish to swipe Liam away from House Grimshaw. So famous had Liam become that his face, his success story, has been the feature of many a fashion and popular magazine. In one case it wasn’t just his handsome face that was published on the cover. GQ Magazine did a six-page spread on Liam where the photographer was not only in front of the camera, but he was turned tastefully nude model for the feature story.

The first time Harry met Liam was when Harry was fresh off his breakup with model Zayn Malik. Despite Liam’s sex appeal, after the way things went between him and Zayn, Harry knew he couldn’t do the thing where he’s in a relationship with a fellow well-hung top. As much as Harry pretended their breakup was about Zayn’s moody, brooding, elitist attitude, that was never the cause. It was sex. Zayn would never give in to bottoming for Harry since the ex pouted for days after the occasional times that he did. Sex lacked fun with Zayn. The moodiness was suffocating. Zayn’s disposition drug Harry down. Their conflict grew in its manifestations as Harry’s bookings slowly outpaced Zayn’s. The final straw was when Nick shifted his entire design aesthetic and made Harry the new face of his fashion house. Harry and Zayn haven't spoken since.

Would sex have been more fun with Liam? Harry could never be sure. Liam is loyal like a puppy, a sweetness, but underneath? There seems to be a very raw animalistic need to overpower about Liam. Like he’d be a sweet lover one minute. Brutal the next. Harry thought it best to let his attraction to Liam stay at bay. Harry surrounds himself in mixed company, the perfect someone is bound to come along someday anyways.

Harry nodded politely to passing familiar faces, ever the charming archetype. The employees were gathering to leave for the night, maybe to catch up on rest or their wasted social life, but Harry hopes he can catch Nick before he chooses to partake in a departure of his own.

Harry walked along the hall past Nick’s elaborate office, there had been total darkness and a quiet. His voice rang out from Payne's studio; Liam and Nick are coordinating a series of documenting photos of Harry’s Gala attire before he is to dress in it for more photos ahead of the red carpet Met debut, this must be them at work now. He approaches the wooden door, ready to congratulate the two men on their joint efforts, what lads they were.

He paused when he heard a voice he did not recognize. It was distinctive and accompanied by a contagious laugh.

He was close enough to lean in and be able to gaze through a space in the ajar door. Without coming into view of the threesome, the sight of Liam and Nick on either side of the third person who they were fondling over held him in his place. They touched so gently, praised with words so affectionate as they each glided an eager hand over bare skin.

This individual being caressed was entirely naked. He was narrow, definitely petite, with skin like honey, brown hair of coppery highlights, and his bum was spectacularly inconceivable in its entirety. Perhaps his tiny waist made his bum look so much bigger and rounder. It had a buoyant-like perkiness to it. Above where his masterpiece ass started, he had two perfect dimples, the type of pelvis depressions that are useful for licking tequila from- should an event call for it.

Liam is visibly aroused as he stood to the side of the nude, little one. It looked like Harry had walked in on Nick comparing fabric color-options to the bared specimen’s foreign proportions, those of which that should not be hidden from hungry eyes, Harry's in particular.

Several templates lay on the work table near these three, as to seemingly maintain some sort of facade. Nick had one fabric in one hand of the same mossy-green silk color Harry had just seen Tessa wearing on the red carpet. Nick's other hand was feeling over the model's skin, nearly hypnotized by what could only feel greater than the silk itself.

The brunette photographer had a camera in one hand while the other hand he was matching with the tenderness of Nick. Harry can see Liam holding back, accumulated arousal for his subject must have developed while Liam was photographing, before Harry's arrival. A thin cable attached to Liam’s camera, connected to a laptop on the table, meaning any captured photos were immediately stored on files.

The way Liam was behaving toward his subject was not like anything Harry had ever seen Liam do while photographing models before. Harry has known Liam for about two years. Always a consummate professional, a gentleman, is how Harry would describe Liam. This scene Harry has stumbled upon? It’s... Consensual. The model threads an arm around Liam. Doing so enables Liam to set his camera aside on the table. His large hands went to cup the model’s face. Even though this model has turned his head slightly to receive Liam’s kiss, Liam’s hand completely obscures his features from Harry’s view. Their interaction has intimate laziness about its action, not hurried or rushed, like lovers might do before bed at night. Had Liam decided to employ his?

Nick stepped away from Liam and the model, respectful of their moment together.

He snickers as he retrieves his belongings, “Okay, okay. You two can go at it now. I gotta have Harry’s garment ready for final fitting by tomorrow. Promised it first thing in the morning. He’s so excited that he wanted to come in earlier this afternoon. It was hard to put him off. He’s become such a primadonna with the all fame, going to the Met, neglecting thrones of people always throwing themselves at him.”

If there was a question for Tessa’s out-of-character dress, then there could be no doubt at this point that he was falling from grace with Nick. Nick had planned this little secret rendezvous with what might be a new modeling talent. It looked like this “talent” had some sort of thing with Liam. Liam had never been one to talk gossip or say much about his private life. When you’re as hung as Liam there is no need to brag.

Suddenly, the kiss ends.

Liam bends the delicate little thing over the work table. He takes to his knees, putting his hands on the bare bum playing with it. Kneading it, slapping it, pushing it together, and parting its cheeks it as he spoke. Liam was whispering, breathless and husky, savoring the closeness of the heat radiating from his prey. Pressed against puckering and quaking bottom, his lips move slowly, tauntingly, “So you want to make your boyfriend jealous huh? Invite me to fuck this perfect arse of yours and leave you dripping with my cum?”

No matter how obscene all of this is, Harry nor Nick have yielded from their positions. One of them was at least given approval of the showing.

“Oh yes, Liam! Want you to wreck me so badly that when I crawl into bed with him he knows I was with a big daddy, getting destroyed, wanting it because he was too tired, again. Fuck me hole Li, you know you want to. Leave me juicy and wet, the scent of you on me.” The boy must also work for the adult industry as he is delivering the full routine; moaning, pants, shaking, all while in a studio with a sound system and cameras.

Who was this slutty cock whore with the tiniest waist and the perfect bum, skin like amber silk? Harry hadn’t a clue. He stayed there struck to a scene he had come upon unable to extract himself. Actually, he has a little stiffy and a huge curiosity.

Liam began to eat out the ass he held him in his hands. Harry could hear every lick between the tiny coos of the prone lad. He saw quite well, from directly behind, how Liam’s hands were full with the two glorious cheeks. Sometimes Liam released them, he likely enjoyed the compression of them on his face. He frequently ran one hand up the back of the one he ravished with his tongue, and from the sounds of it, lips sucked over an increasingly sensitized hole. Other times, Liam reached around in front likely to wank on the lad's cock or play with his balls. Harry wondered. _Was this lad smooth, manicured to perfection like a proper twink?_

The little thing parted his legs wider as Liam worked into him. Soon perspiration erupted across his skin. His bum became red from Liam’s little ass-play, the rest of his body shading due to how Liam was warming him to the core.

Harry didn’t realize he was touching himself until Liam broke off to stand up and lean over the honey-skin twink, to kiss him while telling him to stay as he was. Liam hastily stripped bare.

There Liam was. Nude. Cock hard. His cock was so big it couldn’t post straight out because he is a monster when erect. A destroyer. Liam made a point to kiss the sweet ass of the lad bent over presented for him, who begged for a good dicking, to be wrecked, to leave with something for his boyfriend to find. The broad man put little kisses up from bum to back, to shoulders, to neck until he meets awaiting lips.

They were brief. Harry could see how Liam is being a gentleman but his body was primed with need.

“You ready for me to destroy you now? I know he likes to eat out the cream pie, but doesn’t he prefer it be his own,” the evident smugness the man possessed, confident of his control of the situation.

“Fuck’em Li. Fucking fuck me like you hate me. Leave me raw n’red.” The trapped lad blubbered, although complacent to some degree, he demanded Liam hurried through foreplay.

Across the room came the sound of Nick’s laugh. How a Nick could work with these two going at it was a total mystery.

Harry took two steps back and witnessing the sight of Liam positioning himself, his dick in one hand, the other on the arse he was invited to plunder by more urging from the bottom. Harry knew when Liam began to push himself in, even though he could only see the back of Liam’s fit body. How the cock-whore began gasping, still faintly encouraging yet making tiny, hitched shrieks like his body was being pressed maybe too much.

Harry only heard Liam’s reassurance that he will go slow to start. The bottom replying, “Na, na, na,” as Harry finally turned away sprinting back the way he came.

What stops Harry from an immediate exit is running into yet another photographer who works for Grimshaw, the lesser appreciated Greg James.

Harry collided with Greg, who was much taller, significantly, and sent Harry backward.

Greg had come back to work. Harry, who looked odd, prompted him to naturally asked if everything was okay. Harry couldn't come up with an answer for his madness, nor something at least remotely appropriate. Unusual for Harry to be caught lacking coherence, Greg took the hint.

“Their keeping secrets aren’t they? That explains why Nick wanted me to leave earlier while he had wanted Liam to stay late. They're both still here.”

Greg, an excellent photographer, was routinely overshadowed by Liam. Harry had witnessed the competitiveness between them as they vie for the best assignments. With Greg asking about something Harry can’t explain the awkward speechlessness continued on. This sends Greg going to Liam’s office. Harry followed intending to stop Greg although he couldn’t know why he would care to get involved.

When the two entered the office, the large monitor of the desktop computer revealed what was being fed to it from a camera still laying on a table in a studio in another part of the facility.

Live-action is inadvertently being fed. No sound, the poorly positioned camera is not placed well, but it captures raw sex.

Greg sat on a chair at Liam’s desk, mouth agape. Harry was still unable to provide answers. The two of them watch the monitor as Liam pounds the lad bent over the table for him. The bottom’s face was pointed the opposite direction of the camera, so he remained anonymous.

A minute of watching with disbelief passed before Greg shakes himself out of his stupor. He opens a drawer of Liam’s desk, fumbling to find a thumb drive. Inserting the gadget into the computer, Greg told Harry, “This will be good.”

Rivalry is palpable. Malicious intent.

Why didn't Harry stop him?

Later, so many questions turned over in Harry’s mind about that night in the week to follow. As he dressed for the Met, he could not help but obsess over what he saw. What the secrecy was about? Who was that was with Liam and Nick? Why Greg would make a copy of the incident and say, “ _This will be good_.”

Harry was so preoccupied with these thoughts that he took very little pleasure in dressing or doing his nails in alternating colors. He intended to learn a few answers.

***

The red carpet of the Met Gala was a massive buzz.

The reaction to Harry’s look was an immediate rave. The simplicity of the all-black ensemble made the use of some sheerness and some frills speak louder about how to subtly do Avant-guard style than some of the more overtly haute-couture looks that walked the carpet.

Harry was trying to rid himself from clambering by yet another female member of the press when a pair advancing along behind him on the carpet caught his eye. He was unbashful about is attention to the couple.

The last thing anyone would expect of Harry Styles is that he has a massive secret crush for a celebrity in the sports world, an Irish golf pro. More shockingly, to anyone who knows Niall Horan, was that the golfer would ever be on a list of invitees for the Met. Given Niall’s conservative choice of what to wear indicated his lack of comfort in dressing in the abstract. Yet there he was. Niall Horan and a date who Niall made clear by the way he kept putting an arm around his companion any time they were moving on from where they were stopped by some member of the press only to be stopped by another.

Harry couldn't blame the golf pro from herding his date. The lad escorting Niall was one word, stunning. He too, perhaps to match his famous date, was dressed modestly for the venue. Nevertheless, the golfer’s date made his suit sexy despite its simplicity and lack of Met Gala couture.

The idea of a male escort strongly suggested that Niall Horan appeared to have decided to come-out officially with a resounding statement at the met Gala and establishing that he is gay. His apparent tastes favored the flawlessly pretty.

A playful expression Niall’s date would replace with a pro-model intuitive composure for the onslaught of flashing pictures. One second Niall’s date gave the cameras a pretty smile, looking youthful, pixie-like. A few seconds later the smile vanquished, Niall’s date would take on a rugged sort of handsomeness that accentuated his chiseled jawline and his defined cheekbones. The manner in which he did these expression shifts reminded Harry of Zayn. Zayn could aways convey duality.

Yet another curiosity Harry observed was how the date would intuitively take cues when to step completely away from Niall for Niall to be photographed alone as the date is an unknown.

Whenever the escort and Niall were free to advance on the carpet, they resumed their banter, all while Niall kept an arm around his date or a hand low on his back.

***

Harry had changed into his second look for the after-party, it was daringly whimsical.

Harry was totally humming. He has been drinking and truly enjoying himself, however, he skimmed the crowd three times, and there were no signs of Niall and Prettyboi. Harry presumes they had left the Gala and gone home.

A touch of his arm had him turning to face none other than Niall’s boy in the flesh.

“Harry Styles,” Prettyboi says. His coy smile and the glimmer in his eyes show his infatuation. That, and the way he slowly looked Harry over. “How gorgeous you are, so much more breath-taking in person. What an excellent job Grimshaw did in dressing you, your look earlier was magnificent! Only Harry Styles could pull it off. Although this second look, I have to say while I like the Beetleguese slant to it, I was so hoping to see your first outfit up closer. I was told your nipples were all puffy and such.”

Harry felt scandalized, but he takes a closer look at what Niall’s date is wearing. It’s a little known piece but it is designer. James Corden to be precise. Harry knows the failed designer turned talk show host, James, as he was asked to campaign some of his pieces numerous times. In this case, the monochromatic look only seems to work because Niall’s date has a curvy figure for one so slight.

“And you? You, whoever you are, you are wearing all things Corden...from a few years ago...a Corden really, to the Met?”

Harry hadn't meant for his reply to sound as condescending as it did. He was relieved when the pretty boy didn’t bat an eye to the unintentional offense. “I’m Louis, by the way. Louis Tomlinson. And yes, it’s merely a James Corden piece and one from several years back. But you see its hard to find things that fit my bum properly and I didn’t think I'd be in my clothes all this long.” He contained a smile as he bit the tip of his tongue, the meaning was not lost to Harry. Louis arrived with a date, one of which he intended to have sex with.

Before Harry could respond, Louis placed a few fingers lightly on Harry’s lips. Sure wasn't interested, but he was a little intrigued, this assured this pursuer, “I’ve been wanting to know how these lips would feel. Now I can scratch off me list how the lips of Harry Styles feel on my fingertips.”

Harry realized he was blushing only when Louis withdrew his hand, covered his mouth in a disarmingly cute fashion, and laughed throughout Harry’s awkwardness. Just how adorable was the latter to be _so modest_ when he is such a massive celebrity. Louis moved on, and added how he, "couldn't wait until next week when we become coworkers for Grimshaw.”

“We what?” Harry mimicked brokenly.

Harry’s mind drifted when Louis began to explain that he’d signed on with Grimshaw about a week before; the same day when he met with his head photographer at the studios one night. Nick wanted to mix things up a little, infuse some new energy.

The effect of Louis being such a pretty little thing evaporated from Harry’s thoughts about him when Harry realized this is the same way Nick transitioned Zayn out and Harry in. Harry also realized this pretty thing, whose bum he self-described as tricky to fit, must have been the spectacular-arsed at the studio that unforgettable night.

Suddenly it hit Harry. He should not be friendly with this little thing.

Making the situation much worse Niall comes to beckon Louis. He huddles close to Louis’ backside, arms wrapping around Louis, his lips kiss the back of Louis’ head.

“Sweet Cheeks, come’on, bae. Time to go.”

Harry can’t fathom how he feels about the turn of the night. The way Niall’s lips grazed the cute ear of the pixie and dismissed Harry in interest to take his date home had Harry in a fit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be mood boards on Tumblr for several chapters of this fiction at http://palosquared.tumblr.com
> 
> You can message me there as an anon if you don't want to comment here on ao3.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry gets another glimpse. This makes things worse.
> 
> Mood board for this chapter:  
> https://palosquared.tumblr.com

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be another chapter coming soon (next week?) and an additional mood board to show the visuals of this fiction. Hope you are enjoying this! It is so nice having collaboration and we thank you for whispering any comments to encourage the creativity. ~.stay safe.~

Was it was the amount of alcohol Harry drank at the afterparty?

Or the elation of seeing his crush only to face devastation when Niall didn’t even look at him?

Or maybe, it is something about Louis Tomlinson. A pretty little thing that has gained the interest of Grimshaw. Evidence suggests he was the lad who Liam fucked senseless after what was a secret meeting with Nick and Liam. It appears the act was a betrayal of his boyfriend, Niall, Harry’s fantasy love interest.

Whatever the cause, Harry woke the morning after the Met with a massive head-ache, a queazy stomach, and feeling unrested with the onslaught of dreams.

Images and events juxtaposed. Bizarre, the non-sensical interweaved with memories.

The memories?

Dreams often make no sense. Out of all of the tangled illusions, why did Harry get reexperience age eleven when he was at a private club, where he met this boy and fell in love for the first time?

Once Harry has taken something for his pounding head, made some tea, he considers what irritates him so much. Louis. Niall Horan’s boyfriend. A boyfriend who was shagging Liam Payne because he is a demanding, needy slut? Possibly a new muse for Grimshaw, thus a threat to Harry’s role as such?

What is this other nagging thing that confuses Harry about Louis?

Reflecting on the brief encounter with Louis it makes Harry get a funny feeling of déjà vu. _They have met before._

Going to his journal and writing about the gala last night Harry tries to chronicle details and avoid further thoughts of the convoluted feelings. He realizes he's written a meaningless pile of rubbish which leads him to start a doodle.

A doodle becomes a sketch.

One sketch leads to another.

He mindlessly draws a particularly detailed, shape. One becomes another. And inside of another until...

Harry throws the pen and journal away from him like it was suddenly scalding hot. It lands on the floor and the page he was doodling on remains open. Harry stands up and looks down at it. Two realities fuse into one.

He drew a distinctive image of an eye. And eye with an expressiveness, framed with full lashes and set off by the accent of a sharply arched brow. Seeing what he drew, the dreams he had last night, his heartbeats strutter, his stomach flips, and Harry dashes to his closet to search a box of old memorabilia.

He eventually musters the courage to exit the closet, the natural light from the living room could better assist what his eyes could not conceive from the two notebooks in his hand.

Two eyes side by side. One from more than ten years ago, a child's rendition, the other from minutes ago, but two eyes that match all the same. Harry hasn’t colored his current illustration but the color from his childhood drawing is spot on for the cerulean shade of the wandering eyes of present-day Louis Tomlinson.

Louis must be “Louie” from the pool years ago. A first love was always the sweetest. Even if unrequited since Harry and Louis never saw each other again.

Yet here Louie, Louis, is now. Someone Harry has to hate.

***

On Monday morning, Harry sleeps late. He isn’t scheduled to go to Grimshaw’s until later in the week so he is left with the irritation of needing to keep himself busy to avoid his journals. Both the new one, that he wants to fill with the bearing of his Louis-frustration, and his boyhood one. The yearning for another encounter was frequent enough that Harry wrote for almost a year following the day at the pool.

At the end of the day where the most useful thing done was having a run, Harry makes a simple sandwich for dinner and decides to watch TV while eating to distract his thoughts. The next day he is scheduled to be a guest on the James Corden talk show, it seems prudent to watch the mention of his guest appearance.

James Corden and Harry have a history. James became a successful talk show host after a period of struggling as a well-established men’s wear designer. Harry was one of his models and the two became quite close. James made his interest in Harry obvious with excessively flirtatious behavior, however, Harry, even as newly discovered eye-candy, was out of Corden’s league, but their relationship had their circulation for James going into to the talkshow business as a friend to the superstar model. Viewers became used to Harry that on a couple of occasions he had stepped in to host in James’ absence. After all, the James Corden Show is a fashion-centered talk show.

Harry knows James has planned to stack the week with guests who were at the Met Gala. How unfortunate it is for Harry that he had just taken an unusually large gulp of his wine when James announced his first guest. “First guest today is a face you might not know yet, but soon he will be on the cover of every fashion magazine, a new model representing designer Nick Grimshaw is joining us today. Welcome please, Louis Tomlinson.”

Harry spits red wine. It immediately turns his white, faux-fur area rug under his coffee table pink where the projectile fluids land.

Out from backstage comes the pretty, light on his feet, curvy model.

Curvy yes as it is easy to see given that Louis is in a simpler look than the suit he wore at the Gala. Tight black jeans, a black knit shirt that fits his form easily, revealing his a thin build with possible unnaturally gifted proportions. His hair is styled in a fringy, not too planned. His bright, expressive eyes framed with his thick lashes give an anime-like quality to face. And, as Harry noted at the afterparty, Louis has nothing less than flawless skin. It almost seems as if Louis radiates sunshine.

Harry realizes he is getting drawn into Louis’ appeal without consciously willing it. He audibly tells himself, “Snap out of this Styles. He is not your type.”

Meanwhile, a little voice in his deep subconscious argues. _He is exactly his type._

Corden greets his guest with his typical amount of touching. Knowing James as Harry does, Harry recognizes what a smitten James looks like versus James simply being an engaging host. The James greeting Louis is a decidedly indicative of a smitten James Corden.

After a few seconds longer of James’ hands lingering on Louis as he is directed to a loveseat, their conversation begins.

“So congratulations on the new contract representing Grimshaw. Tell us a little about yourself and how the opportunity came about?”

“Thank you, James, thank you very much for having me. There is not very much to tell about me personally, I’m an ordinary lad from Donny, been modeling off and on since I was eighteen. This opportunity fell into me lap when my boyfriend and I were out for dinner one night here in London. Nick knows him, came by our table to say ‘hello’. The next day me agent called and said Grimshaw wanted to offer to put me under contract.”

“Fell into your lap, you say. I presume being in a lap is a good thing then.”

The slightly lewd statement has Louis giggling. He does his laugh with his hand turned so the backside of it politely covers his mouth. Little crinkles framing the skin above his cheeks on the outer side of his eyes as he leans forward his entire body experiencing the laughter. This bashful and sweet response covers whatever it is he says to James so only Corden hears it.

Whatever it was has James pushing his chair back and inviting Louis to come to sit in his lap.

Louis jumps at the opportunity. With the pixie sat in his lap like a pet cat, James lays a hand on Louis’ thigh, then must realize how intimate that looks on camera because he moves it to pet Louis’ belly and banters a few minutes with Louis about lap cats, even calling Louis “my kitten”.

Underlying the entire situation is a hint of sexual innuendos that only the brainless could miss. Directions from the producer off-camera must have something to do with an abrupt halt because James and Louis both look over at someone unseen by those at home before James puts Louis back on his feet and over to his place on the couch Louis goes.

James presses on with the more scripted questioning.

“So Louis, you know we’ve planned this week to review the Met Gala, who wore who, what worked, what didn’t,” James looks at the camera to emphasize his deliberate self-promotion is meant to be self-deprecation. “I know you looked smashing in your black on black ensemble by the famed menswear designer, one, James Corden, but I am curious, who do you think took the night?”

Louis lights up with the question.

“This might sound self-serving, given the new contract with Grimshaw but unquestionably Harry Styles took the night. As only Harry can do, he made a somewhat less theatrical look make a huge impact because its Harry Styles. You could literally put that man in an old t-shirt and tight whities and if he walks the carpet or the runway, everyone wants to be him.”

“So are you saying the model makes the man? Grimshaw isn't half the designer without a proper muse?”

“Oh no, no, no!” Louis takes on a reflective expression. His smile dampened his chiseled features, the cut of his jawline and sculptured cheekbones. “Nick is a totally self-made success. Regardless of who he dresses, he brings out the best for them. I guess I meant that Harry, in particular, has a thing, men want to be him. If he even crosses a woman celebrity on the street the tabs are claiming he is dating them, and it is easy to understand why. He’s got an exceptional quality about him. I met him for the first time at the Gala. He is stunning. You know that more than most, James.”

Two things hit Harry. First, Louis sounds like he is crushing over Harry, who was conceited and rude upon their encounter. Secondly, Louis doesn't even remember young Harry. Harry filled a year of diary entries obsessing about the sunshine-Louie and mature Louis hasn’t the foggiest memory of it. Harry is on the verge of shedding his hate of Louis. Louis seems like a genuinely sweet person. Perhaps Harry should not be so judgmental, but then James pulls out a picture on enlarged card-stock to present for the audience and studio cameras to film.

“Okay Louis, I sense a wee-bit of fangirling over Mr.Styles, who by the way is going to be my guest tomorrow,” James announces as Louis blushes and puts a delicate hand over his heart like to say it was made to flutter, “but my question is photo-shop or not, and does the boyfriend approve- or not?”

This is a very personal question. Very. The even more stunning thing is the question coincides with an image of Harry’s ex and Louis kissing?

Again Louis laughs. Politely covers his mouth. Eye crinkles abound, Louis submits a clever but equally gossip-spinning answer.

“Photoshopped. Totally photoshopped. I would never kiss anyone wearing a pattern like that unless, u n l e s s, it is Harry Styles. However on the second question, yes, yes, my boyfriend would totally approve of me kissing Zayn Malik. Me too I might add.”

Harry should be happy that Zayn is drug into this gossipy-mess. If only because Zayn has retained animosity directed at Harry despite Zayn’s role in their breakup. However, what consumes Harry the most is a surge in dislike for Louis, who Harry considers nothing more than an overtly slutty little shit. Louis undeservingly has Niall as a boyfriend meanwhile he bends over to take Liam up the arse. He publicly announces frenzied interest in Harry, all the while suggesting he’d willingly kiss Zayn. These confessions after implying a lap-dance for James. Has Louis no shame? How many men does he want at once?

James clearly loves the cheeky, boldness of his guest. He lays down the photoshopped image of Zayn and Louis. In its place, he shows a black and white photo of a neatly coiffed, suit and tie Louis.

“What about this one Louis? Ring any bells when this photo was taken?”

Louis jumps at the hint from James to self-promote _for James _. “Oh sure, James. That was one of my first jobs, modeling a James Corden suit.”__

James has no shame over his use of Louis’ guest appearance to try to sound like his designer-days are relevant. Harry almost feels sorry for James at this point. That is until James turns the conversation back to Louis being signed with Grimshaw. James replaces the one Louis-image with a collage of four. Three of the four are black and whites. One is color. All of the images represent nicely Louis’ defined facial features.

One emphasizes Louis’ eyes with the way he has a jumper-neck pulled up over his mouth. The remaining three with his face turned slightly capture how defined Louis’ cheekbones are, sculptured edges. In all four of these images, Louis looks very collegiate. Very sporty. A hint of the playful exude. About these qualities, James makes another outlandish statement.

“Now we had Grimshaw send these photos over, we asked to represent what it was the designer was looking for in signing you as a model, and tell us what it is that they see that lead to this role with Grimshaw. We got these four from them. About these images Grimshaw said, and I quote, ‘We wanted a sportier look going forward.’”

James leans toward Louis. He asks Louis what he thinks that means. The question James probably meant is based on the keys words “going forward”. Harry wants to know, too.

Either Louis is skilled at deflecting controversy or he is being overtly provocative. The answer obfuscates the intention of the question.

“Well, James I believe what Grimshaw’s team means by the statement is that they were wanting someone who can go all night with them, always have their eyes on the ball.”

Harry spits red wine on his white rug for the second time. James is rendered mute by Louis’ witty, innuendo-laden reply. Harry is sure James will be asking him some questions about the very same subject on the show tomorrow. Somehow Harry will need to spice up his appearance with James as to not be outshone by Louis. He is not going to allow this, this, this imp to push him out of the limelight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Z!!!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry’s turn as a guest on the James Corden Show in the days following the Met Gala.

Harry has never dressed this subdued for a public. So why the simple black shirt, billowy black pants for his guest appearance on the James Corden show?

Maybe because he had Louis on the brain. He had to make comparisons of Louis an himself based not only on the dress, but the man. Harry went so far as to remove all of his signature rings. If Louis could pull off a lively guest appearance based on wit and innuendo, simplicity to his attire, so could Harry.

Arriving at the studio, the star guest is directed to a green room and instructed, “We all here know that you are very familiar with how things go, the structure. An intern will come back to get you and our other guest after James does his opening bit. Oh, and since you've agreed to a game, we have you and Niall going head to head in a game of ‘Spill your guts or fill your guts.’”

“What did you say?” Harry asks the production assistant. Had Niall already been specified as a featured celebrity for the airing?

The young woman laughs. She doesn't catch Harry’s surprise. 

“Oh don’t play naive Harry. We know you know the game. James thought it would be fun given you and Niall were both at the Met to ask some uncomfortable questions about your take on things. James picked some pretty unpleasant things to eat to go well with unpleasant questions.”

“No, what I was asking is that I presume you mean Niall, the golfer Niall Horan?” 

The assistant has no clue about Harry’s conundrum. She shares with Harry that a few scheduling things that got shifted around, which causes Harry to pick at the loose thread of his trousers. He wished he could have anticipated this turn of events, to had made a splash with something that has his nipples out or at least his body visible with his ritual of wearing sheer fabrics. Empowered to be as flirty and charming as he can comfortably entertain. This opportunity to impress Niall away from that not-worthy Louis is one he must seize.

A knock at the door, to the room adjacent to Harry's, indicates Niall is being alerted to come to the set. Harry is prepared to make an impression when they meet in the hall outside their respective rooms. Indeed, his own beckoning follows. Harry assumes a charismatic smile as he leaves his dressing room preparing to _wow_ his pursuit.

Niall steps out of his room zipping his fly. This has Niall looking down and missing the impact Harry has planned.

When a hidden, by his walking behind Niall, Louis Tomlinson comes to Niall’s side, it puts shock upon Harry. Even more so given how Louis wipes over his mouth with the back of his hand like to wipe away some kind of a mess. This strongly suggest that only seconds ago he was on his knees swallowing a load for Niall.

Niall seems unbothered by Louis' condition as he pulls the shorter into his side. They kiss, lots of tongue finding the taste of each others mouth as each moans a little. Louis’ arms go up, hands grip Niall’s hair. Niall’s hands go down to grip Louis’ arse. Bodies melted together through their kiss and Harry can only imagine that if Niall isn't getting a boner it is because it is a side effect of having just been sucked off.

Breaking their kiss, Niall positions his body toward the stage, but not before noticing the gawking of this co-star along the hall. Niall snorts a pitiful acknowledgment and reaches for Louis' elbow, moving toward the wall and out of the way.

“Harreh,” Louis squeaks freely. It seems Louis’ throat retains a Niall remnant.

Niall blushes. He might realize that they were looking like two lads doing naughty things and he has only just come out officially a few days before. At the Met Gala of all places! Then, there is Louis. Brightly beaming and unapologetic about the circumstance. The competition establishes his pinnacle, within the public's eyes of the fashion spectrum, has no shame.

If Harry is going to sweep from under his feet, he will need to be more captivating when the cameras are rolling.

Harry has to make an impact. Niall enters the set first. Harry was feeling diminished. Behind him, as he waits for his cue, is Louis.

Louis is lingering in the wings of the stage and finds a seat, next to a monitor, to observe the show. Harry can feel those blue eyes on his backside. Harry hates what he hears coming from this slutty little interloper.

“You’ll kill it Harry. You always do. Like the modern Helen of Troy.”

The rasp of Louis’ voice is likely due to his cum-coated throat. It annoys Harry to no end, it should be him.

As Harry hears his name, he takes one quick look back at Louis. Heart-eyes and kitten emojis are what Harry perceives from Louis’ expression. That, and how the little whore drinks his body up from head-to-toe. The blush on Louis’ face suggests his yearning. Has he no bounds on his need for flesh?

Harry leaves the shadows and strides to the seating area under gleaming lights. Niall has taken the seat closest to James.

Harry can see Louis standing out of view as he starts to sit next to his crush’s side. He gives Niall a quick, brief smile with a “hello” before making a bold move.

If Louis could play flirty games so could he. Harry crosses in front of Niall, pushes the wheeled chair James sits in back so he can take a seat in James’ lap. Once sat, Harry takes James' plumb face in hands and puts a very long kiss on James’ lips. Harry is sure Louis has the best view of this. Harry’s back is to Niall so the intensity of the kiss is obscured from him. When James makes an sigh like his intention to takes this as platonic has broken Harry ends the kiss.

James has a flushed face as he says “ _What_ was that?”

Niall giggles and submits a guess, “Nice to meet ya, Harry Styles style!” Niall’s speculation combined with the smile he extends gives Harry a signal of his complete amusement and delight over Harry’s boldness.

James remains a bit befuddled. He fumbles to get his focus back. Once he comes to it, his witty banter resumes with his guests opening, questioning what they have achieved. Lauding Harry and Niall with compliments about their various successes.

Once the conversation turns to the Met, the expertise Harry brings as a model has him dominating the conversation. He hardly realizes how much time passes until its time for a break. Having done this show both as a guest and filler as a host, Harry knows the routine before James states that “...when we come back my guests will play the game of ‘Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts’.”

At the cut, Harry tries to make up for his overshadowing Niall with his politeness backstage.

“Where did the time go? I’m sorry I was talking so much... Too much.”

“Actually I am grateful you took the lead. My thing is not fashion. I mean, look at how conservatively I dressed on Saturday. I was relieved when my date dressed to match with me when he could have easily pulled off something else,” Niall pauses before clarifying his meaning, “I don’t mean he would try to outshine you, or anything like that. I watched the show yesterday, and I agree with Louis. You took the Gala in your Grimshaw piece. I’m pretty sure Louis hasn't removed the visual of your nipples out of his mind. He keeps bringing them up.”

While Niall gives a hearty laugh with raised eyebrows, Harry looks over to the place where Louis was standing alone. The Corden show interns are preparing to bring a table they can roll out on its wheels which has the large Lazy Susan with the assortment of revolting things. Louis is looking at what is on the table as they bring it by. He puts his hand over his mouth.

Niall notices the grimace as well and takes Harry’s hand to urge him to move with him to meet their challenge head-on.

“He is dramatic. We are looking at someone who will put plenty of challenging things in his mouth and yet won’t even try a bit of avocado toast!”

 _Right_ , Harry thinks. Like it wasn’t obvious that Louis must have just put a nice-sized Irish dick in his mouth and swallowed what Niall fed him.

The Lazy Susan, brought before the pair, had an array of what are considered delicacies in some parts of the world but for the largely UK audience the items are selected for their shock value.

Later, Niall had gotten past his first two rounds where he was asked familiar questions so he passed on consuming “balut” or pig blood curd. Similarly, Harry’s first two rounds of questions were not so brutal and he evaded the bird saliva and the jellyfish that James had presented him. For the most part, James had been sparing them tough questions. They only had to give an opinion on which of two other Met attendees had a better look. Evaluating one’s choice of fashion didn't seem too harsh or personal. If anything the questions were designed more so James could show images of the range of fashion at the Gala and the challenges are quite forgiving for his guests.

They each had only one last round when the next question went to Niall. A repulsive, disgustingly large bull penis presented after James played with deciding between the penis or the chicken feet. The dilemma was clearly a bit of acting on James' part and hinted that the last question for Niall would be at least subtly sexual in nature.

Sure enough, penis laid out before him, Niall is shown an image of Louis and asked, “Well Niall, having our guest from last night’s show on your arm throughout Gala, which one word would you say describes Louis Tomlinson best? Insatiable or sweet?”

Niall blushes. His flush of red occurs so fast it seems he must surely rival a chameleon by his intense switch of color. His eyes linger on the picture of Louis. It would be so simple to say “sweet”, it is only one word. It implies nothing negative. Yet, even Harry knows from what he has witnessed that there is only one word to describe Louis. Insatiable says it all. The peril might be that, as Liam’s delight in eating Louis’ arse suggested to Harry, that Louis is also sweet.

Resigned to play the game intended to generate gag reflect, Niall takes a bite of the penis. He chews slowly and resists spitting the bite into a bin. Niall’s determination shows his dedication to Louis.

Harry looks over to where Louis was standing. Louis has his hands over his face. The answer Niall couldn't share is clear. Louis is both insatiable _and _sweet.__

The Lazy Susan turns. Harry is presented with shirako, or as James calls it so the largely non-Asian audience follows, it is cod sperm.

This confirms that the question will be sexual.

“Staying with our theme of questions about our guest of last night, Harry,” James puts up a picture of Zayn alongside the one he still has up of Louis. “Which Nick Grimshaw model is the most gorgeous? Louis Tomlinson or Zayn Malik?”

Harry could easily swallow the sperm. Knowing Louis’ eyes are on him, knowing there is no way to say which person is the most attractive, each is gorgeous in their own right, Harry does the cruelest thing.

“No competition,” Harry looks to where Louis is out of view of those in the audience, “Louis compared to Zayn is like when you move and the Snapchat filter comes off.”

The harsh way Harry insinuates that Zayn is better looking than Louis has both James and Niall jolting to look over at Louis. Louis whose mouth is open, he too shocked by the needless and unprovoked swipe. Harry smiles at Louis. The lad was blatantly crushing over Harry on the Corden show the day before. Harry wants to makes sure that Louis knows the feelings are pronouncedly not shared.

Louis might have been Harry’s first crush but given the person he’s become, some cock slut who is also a threat to Harry’s esteemed place in the fashion world, Harry is going to suppress the way Louis looks to please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please check out the mood board for this chapter and reblog it if you like it ihttps://palosquared.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> We are a new team of authors who don’t know how each other that well. If you have insights, please share. One comment is equivalent to ten kudos! 
> 
> Most importantly: Be kind. Stay safe. Kiss the one you love.
> 
> (One more note. Harry’s words at the end were taken from the recent Billie Eilish comment. A comment I believe was misrepresentative. She’s young and she is still learning. I’m sure given her marketing image about not shading women, her understanding of Louis’ personal losses, it was a misfortunate misunderstanding. It worked well for the scathing nature of what I wanted for fictional Harry.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We have an exchange between Louis and Harry followed by an introduction to Zayn, his motivations, putting some perspective on Lilo and Nouis entanglements.  
> ***

Harry has not seen Louis the Corden show. That night had ended rather sourly. His insults were not worth the response it garnered from Niall.

Niall had cupped Louis’ face in his hands, placing a series of kisses over Louis’ cheekbones. Louis’ eyes may have been squeezed tightly shut, but it could not conceal the tears. Louis was made a total wreck by a cruel Harry.

The scandal of it all is that Harry felt completely unbothered, as he intended to be unkind. To quickly drag Louis down the tall ladder he had looked up. Harry on its pinnacle. So as Niall was drawn to comfort Louis after the Corden show for what was an unprovoked, inconceivable attack by Harry, James questioned Harry.

“Where did all that animosity come from?”

Harry didn't have an answer for James. He possessed no usual spite within himself and to expose his paranoia of the security of his career will surely do more harm than good.

Strolling into Grimshaw's studios, late afternoon, Harry has to push aside the last image of Louis. No sense in regretting anything now.

Harry is passing through the corridor when his name is called from somewhere inside Greg’s office once Harry crosses the open door.

Peering inside, to the soft questioning of his name, bring him to the smaller, delicate model under harsh harsh lights. Louis is hesitant, shyly supporting his side against the chair he must have risen from. For whatever reason he had to be in the office, he seemed shocked to have caught Harry.

“Can we talk?”

Louis looks toward the ottoman beside him, and different parts of his face twitch during the wait for the other man’s acceptance. “In here, privately, please.”

Louis has a voice that is distinct and like no other. The way it sounds when he is speaking at a near whisper like he is now as if anyone else is around, which they are not, is so delicate and _sweet_ that it makes Harry want to lean in. Vulnerable. Harry must resist. 

Louis chooses to close some space in between them, about a meter away, and his bravery shrivels in the wake of Harry’s distrust. He looks up with eyes sky blue. His lashes- so long and full. It is rather easy to become transfixed in their vigilance and Harry is rendered weak, no matter how much he squints. He is already blinded.

With a lower lip that cannot decide rather to remain sealed or to part, he mutters, “Why did you say that? On Corden’s? It seemed personal, like you hate me or something. We've only just met. I don’t understand.”

He does not maintain eye contact for long, but more interrogating follows. “I mean, I do agree with you. Zayn is _gorgeous_! Truly magnificent, like you. Different, but perfect. I simply don’t understand where all the heat was coming from and to be so public about the bashing. Have done something to offend you?”

Harry has to remind himself that the pink lips that look petal-soft, needing to be kissed to maybe tint them deeper infused color with like they were when Louis and Niall left the dressing room of the James Corden Show, are a trap. He must remain stoic.

His first thought: Niall deserves better. Harry has no claim to Niall, who is merely a crush. A boyfriend, no. This train of delusion, then focuses on Liam shagging Louis, an _insatiable_ whore that when Niall is too tired to service, Louis has to go elsewhere? That is none of Harry’s business, but directly challenged by Louis has Harry brainstorming any angle for his aggression.

Great bravery and maturity displayed from Louis as he confronts Harry so openly. He contains only a bit of the tremor racking his body as the scene all plays out.

Harry lashes out again. His best option to make this about business verses his vendetta.

“I see no reason to pretend to be friends or to help advance each other’s careers, Louis. It’s pretty clear to me that you are brought in by Nick because he is thinking of making another shift in direction. That's what he did when he phased Zayn out. However, I never knew that was his intent or I would have never come on. Now that I know the pattern, he wants someone, as you put it, ‘sportier, can go all night, good with handling balls’ and I realize where we stand. You are now made aware of this case, and the ball's in court. Oh, and on top of that, you clearly have no shame or personal boundaries. It’s like you are begging for ...”

Louis looks affronted as Harry stops the final words that were about to come out of his mouth. Louis must know what was next and it was searingly hurtful.

“Oh,” Louis says taking the hint of the yet unspoken, “Oh, okay. So we can’t be friends. Because of the modeling, because you think I’m here signaling you're an old market and Nick is phasing you out?” As he wraps up his conclusion, his eyes have widened and his brows reach close to his hairline.

He goes from nimble spirit to stand taller, his little chest puffed out.

“Yes. That’s it.” Harry turns to leave the office. “Professional courtesy is the best you’ll have from me. Friendship? I reserve for that the trust-worthy. Admiration is only for those worthy.”

***

Twenty minutes later, Harry is in the workroom section of Grimshaw’s studio with Nick. The designer considers which of his nearly completed muslin pieces are ready for fitting, while Liam and Greg are off to the side doing some adjustments on lighting in a corner of the workroom when Louis finally comes in to join them.

Louis had not gotten to respond to Harry's earlier dismissal, nor did he choose to further the dispute. The new model had taken the time to recuperate before arriving.

No announcement or even a hello. He is aware he has broken an unspecified curfew. Nick sees him immediately, and with pins in his mouth muddling the words; Nick addresses Louis sternly.

“Louis! You were to be here over twenty minutes ago,” Nick’s agitation portrayed verbally. “I presume this won’t become a routine. You work for me*. You can wait on me all day if I require you to, but I don't wait on you, ever. Understood?”

Although receiving a mouthful from his superior, Louis looks in at Harry, as he witnesses it all unfold. Harry is sure to reveal an ever-so wicked grin, perhaps pleased with his handiwork. Louis accepts his mistake with a nod to Nick.

Both Liam and Greg acknowledge Louis differently than either Nick and Harry. Their warm smiles for Louis are the only small boost to brighten Louis’ disposition following the remark from Nick and the attitude from Harry. Their eagerness to welcome Louis also draws Nick’s attention that his photographers are hovering around in his studio while he is working when Nick hasn’t any need for them.

“Liam, Greg,” Nick chirps, utensils still obscuring his speech as he is draping some fabric on a dress form, “Whatever are you two doing here? We aren't doing photos now. Don't you have any other work to do somewhere* else?”

Harry is looking at what Liam and Greg are looking at; the way their eyes roam over Louis. It gives Harry a hunch that Liam and Greg are both wondering if Louis is going to be available later. Like after Nicks's work is done, as Harry has seen before, Liam or Greg, maybe both might hope to have a little inappropriate work contact.

“Oh, sorry, Nick... We were just setting up for tomorrow,” Liam offers. Greg's silence awaits the answer to Liam’s ruse.

“That'll have to happen later. I don't like to work in a crowded room.” Nick ends the conversation before it could begin. Pivoting to his models, he can resume the matter at hand. "Down to your briefs boys. I want to do some draping. Compare these different fabrics on your different skin tones and forms.”

Harry begins undressing, aware that both Liam and Greg drag their feet to delay the otherwise requested hasty exit. Their odd behaviors coupled with the wandering eyes towards Louis as clothing are being shed.

And Harry? Does either photographer take even a fleeting glance his way?

No. Harry has had a professional relationship with them, and they know he’s gay, but he’s out of a relationship because he is nobody’s bottom. Neither Liam nor Greg pay him any mind. When they leave, it is painfully obvious where their interest lies amongst the subjects within the room, Louis. Harry remains in his corner observing the now stripped, to his briefs, model.

His skin golden, smooth skin also displays a range of tattoos. Usually used as a way to camouflaged imperfections or incorporate artistic vision from natural features like an extra nipple or whatever. Upon seeing Louis' body, Harry can’t fathom why someone would mark something so flawless in unnecessary distractions.

What is distracting is that arse.

Louis, in his tiny briefs that almost look to be from a women’s intimate collection. Between his small waist and full thighs resides an entirely too round bum. Perhaps this is why he is wearing a brand Harry is unfamiliar with. They include the traditional slit at the front, so while they are feminine with their brief sizing, they must be for boys. Maybe it is the way they sit lower than traditional men’s briefs, revealing his pelvis dimples, or the length shorter than men’s briefs, almost exposing his cheeks. Then again, the problem in the coverage is simply a result of the fact that Louis’ arse is lavish and it puts a strain on them.

Harry only realizes he has given this all too much thought about the underwear once a slight stiffy formed from allowing himself to study Louis. He can typically manage not being creepy when working with other models in sensual settings, even as a teenager when hormones make one’s self-control a challenge, he never had any experience with bad-timing. The work table perfectly conceals his issue.

Louis is being useful, a professional, as Nick takes some fabrics and does this draping to take a look at how he likes the weight and color of each article.

On the worktable, Nick references each sketch as he selects one material, and puts another aside. Selects. Rejects. Through all of this Louis is being a consummate professional. He is more quiet and subdued than Harry gathers from past encounters. By the time Nick moves to take some muslin-garment patterns from the dress forms, on which they were being supported, to try them on Louis, Harry has gotten his dick back under his mindful control.

The third piece Nick tries on Louis is trickier to get him into with it all pins for closures and seams. In the process, Louis is prodded. His “ouch” coincides with an involuntary jerk response that lands him getting another pinprick, making him hiss as he tries to still so his designer overlord can stop this menace.

He looks adorably sweet frozen like a street mime, half in and half out of the offensive muslin. Feeling a bit sympathetic, Nick finally stops acting like the arrogant prick he was from the moment Louis arrived late and begins to hastily pull pins to save his model from further torment.

“Oh god, Louis, hold still, I’m sorry. I don't know why I thought I needed you to try all of these tonight anyhow. There's plenty of work in the first two looks for the seamstresses to sew tonight as is. I guess I am just really excited to see these looks all come together. Let me get you outta this and I’ll work on some of Harry’s looks. Hold still.”

Quick dismemberment of the garment leaves Louis bared and scathed. Nick takes caters to a jabbed wrist, that has accumulated a bit of blood, by doing the unthinkable. Nick puts Louis’ wrist to his lips. Once he has sucked off the blood, health concerns be damned, his lips go to the second spot where a pin bought forth blood. The site is on Louis’ shoulder, near his prominent collarbones.

It is tender and uncalled for. Cunningly so.

Harry has to cross his legs to calm the stirring he feels from the building tension.

If it couldn't get any worse, when Nick pulls his lips away from the shoulder, checking the wrist and kissing it again, he notices a third place where a small bead of blood sits. This red bead is at the upper part on one side of Louis’ bum just below a pelvic concave.

Nick bends down, licking at the spot for far longer than what Harry believes is needed. Both hands have found a place on each hip. The hands aren't exceptionally large so their placement on Louis’ hips makes the proportions contrast. Louis is tiny, his bum grand, but he is nothing if not easy to manhandle. Him being so pliant to the whims of the designer for whom he models, pliant when he was bent over by the photographer.

Tending complete, Nick tells Louis that he can get dressed, what time he expects Louis back the next day, and with a hush, to his final request, he adds “and please be on time from here on out, yes?”

The last comment has Louis glimpsing at Harry for a second time since his initial entrance. He puts his clothing back on, thanks Nick, and politely murmurs a goodbye to the vicinity's occupants.

Nick has to clear his mind with a sigh and focus on his obligations, “Now, Harry, on to fitting _my star_ ,” the words should make Harry feel more secure. They don’t.

The fact remains that Nick called Harry a primadonna. Any current compliments imply Nick is placating him. Furthermore what he just did with Louis, licking his wounds, literally, indicate Louis is a risk Nick will take on at any cost.

Harry plays cool. He’s not sure how else to respond. By the time several seamstresses come in to take the work Nick has for them to sew during their night shift work hours, Harry has had his own experience with one pinpricking. For his suffering, he got no compassionate and detailed care. This adds to his anxieties, fears and hatred of the interloper Louis.

***

Stepping into the underground parking garage of the building that houses Grimshaw’s studio complex, Harry walks toward his car. It has been over an hour since Louis left.

When he hears a car door open and his name being called, he turns to see Louis exiting from the passenger side of a vehicle. In the driver’s seat is Greg James. The pitch and his sprint to catch Harry conveys that he was waiting all this time for Harry. Waiting and in the company of Greg for over and hour in a dimly lit, nearly vacant parking garage.

Louis rushes to Harry, his face blushed as he gasps, “Can we talk please?”

Harry notes how Louis does a tugging thing at the hem of his jumper like he's trying to make its coverage greater. This is odd thing given that Harry was just nearly naked with him an hour ago. Harry can’t help but wonder if Louis is trying to make the jumper extend low enough to stay covering the front of his jeans. Jeans which Harry wonders may have a wet spot on the fly area. It wouldn't be the first time he was assaulted by Louis's sexual endeavors.

Greg’s car starts and he drives past them with a smile and a wave to exit the garage. Once Greg is gone, Louis continues.

“It is clear you are not happy with me being part of the team and I’m wondering if you can tell me why?”

It is a fair question. Deserving of a fair answer.

“You want to know why?”

Louis squirms.

“Like I said earlier. I like a work environment that is built on a foundation of trust. I hear you have a boyfriend, and before we met I got a peek at you're style of living and I decided you were entirely too messy and sleazy for my taste.”

His greater height, and the two inch heels, adds to his towering posture as he confidently scrutinizes Louis.

Louis looks to be putting space between them before his eyes track down to Harry’s lips.

Harry doesn't know how it happens, but his mouth feels the press of Louis’ as Louis has his entire body pressed into his.

Feverishly.

Passionately.

Urgently.

Harry breaks this by pushing Louis back. Louis sets a hard glare on Harry. Not likely familiar with people putting up boundaries to his forwardness. “Why are you like this?”

Even Harry could admit the kiss felt right, and honestly, a long time coming, but his physical attraction cannot deter him from his skepticism.

__“Why am I like this?__ Why are you like a common whore expecting everyone to fall for a piece of your arse? Why are you expecting me to cave?"

Louis looks bewildered. Gaze shifting and dumbfounded at the energy directed at him.

Harry resumes. His voice laden with vitriol. He is a man of stunts, almost theatrical with the pointing and waving arms, __“__ I was here the other night Louis,” Harry unleashes. 

He stopped for a second. Only a second. Long enough to meet Louis eyes. The site of them, confused, had Harry diverting his own eyes from the perplexed Louis.

Slower, but firmly, “I saw you Louis. You, Liam, Nick... A late night plot of sorts. Liam bent you over a table... I saw it! It’s on a thumb drive, copied as it fed from Liam’s camera. Downloaded as Liam pounded the ever living shit out of you, he is your coworker and you just took it! _"_

Harry stops his disparaging rant there, left with a heaving chest.

Harry notices that he isn't the only aspirated one this time.

***

Zayn's smoking.

He has no lights on, despite the flats darkness, weak streams of city ambiance filters in from the living room's window.

He waits for Louis.

Blowing rings with each exhale, he thinks about his lover. Zayn can’t help but put his hand on his crotch and palm himself. The more he thinks, the more riled up he becomes. He’s anxious to hear how the first time Louis working for Nick went. Most of his interest is bundled into Louis interacting with Harry.

A grudge against his ex has created an animosity in Zayn for Harry that burns with as much passion as what was once their love.

Love to hatred is always the most intense kind of emotion. So when a couple months ago, an opportunity to turn Harry’s world upside down presented itself to Zayn, he gladly took it.

He and Louis were dining at a fine restaurant, where by happen chance the designer who revoked Zayn's lucrative contract was walking through the establishment on his way to be seated. The ever polite Nick greeted his former model, yet was intrigued by his date. Nick’s was such a charmer with Louis, and his played out tactics inspired Zayn to plot his revenge. If Harry could replace Zayn as the face of Grimshaw, perhaps Louis could replace Harry.

It didn't hurt that Zayn also knew his boyfriend had a secret crush on Harry. Louis probably never realized Zayn was aware of the infatuation. Zayn did his best to never let on to it despite how it added to Zayn's resentment for Harry. Every time an oblivious Louis would come home with some magazine with a feature that focused on Harry and Zayn’s loathing of his former lover would grow.

Throughout their relationship, both Louis and Zayn were keeping a secret but then Zayn was so much better with his; that his ex, the one he was with before Louis, was The Harry Styles.

The tricky part in a game Zayn intended to play was how to use Louis most effectively. Two major concerns were hanging in the balance should Louis be exposed to his crush in a work setting. Obviously Harry is beyond perfection. Zayn couldn't have his lover falling in love with Harry, which is far from his intentions.

The other concern is how would he insure Harry wouldn't fall for Louis. Louis is the perfect partner for Harry; he is everything Harry wanted Zayn to be. Fun in bed. Never moody. Feisty and yet sweet... Loyal.

The loyalty quality was the one Zayn was going to have to massage to make the plan to have Louis with Harry seem a proper threat building the fear that in short time Louis could usurp Harry as the new face of Grimshaw.

This is where the small circles or clicks in the modeling and fashion industries pay off. It is not just what you know, but who you know. Who their friends are.

Louis having been in minor modeling campaigns, largely unknown or undiscovered, was unaware of the circles Zayn has been in and how closely Zayn knows the right people who connect him to Harry Styles. The right people means the trades that can be made. Deals and favors exchanged.

For Zayn to risk losing Louis to his ex, to retaliate, meant he was playing with too many matchsticks. Execution was going to be the determining factor.

The first objective? Insure Louis won’t fall in love with Harry.

How does one make Harry, adorable, kind, gorgeous Harry, completely unlikeable?

Zayn played with this conundrum for days with the problem being that he has no way to manipulate Harry when it occured to him; manipulate Louis.

How easy that would be. Louis will do anything for Harry. _Everything_.

One time Zayn even made Louis hook up with a bloke at a club, shagging the bastard just so Zayn could enjoy watching Louis get fucked. Its a weird thing but Zayn has a kink where he actually likes knowing Louis is his and everyone wants to tap that ass. Condom in pocket, Zayn sent Louis over to the attractive, muscular jock who couldn't stop staring at Louis. Within far too few minutes of introductions Louis had the jock wrapped around his little finger and following Louis' arse to the washroom.

There, Louis on the sink, the bloke begging Louis to be his and the sound of them, from where Zayn hid to observe, made Zayn come fully dressed. He didn't have to touch himself, just getting off on knowing Louis is his.

They left the club after Louis and this stranger composed themselves. When they got home Zayn discovered two really hot things about his lover. One: Louis will feel guilty after being with someone else. So guilty that despite Zayn suggesting the affair, Louis will “make it up” to Zayn. Very effectively.

Two: It is fascinating to fuck Louis when he's been properly dicked first by someone else. It's a strange kink. Zayn isn’t sure where the kink comes from. Everything strange about himself, he attributes some blame onto his ex, the fabulous and flawless Harry Styles.

The arrangement to insure Louis would not take Harry’s heart? It is a process in motion weeks before the week of the Met Gala. A process where Zayn has put an idea in Louis’ head that the strength of his relationship with Zayn is in need of some tests. Validations.

Proof that Louis will always be loyal and come back to Zayn.

“Louis, I want you to meet a friend of mine. A photographer. A quite fit one. He’s in a rough patch, not really out and he’s so, you know, so in need of a good fuck. You remember the time at the club, and for me, you made the scarifice of role-playing a slut? Would you mind my friend sharing a piece of you?” Zayn said to Louis before Louis was to meet with Nick officially for signing a contract to model exclusively for the company.

“You, you want me to have sex with your friend...for you?”

“For us.”

Louis can only play along for so long and his confusion is evident every time Zayn pulls another wild idea out of his arse. “How is that for us? I don't understand. I only want to feel your lips on mine, your big, fat cock filling me, the taste of you on me tongue.”

“Well like I said, I think it is time that we test our relationship. I trust you. Do you trust me? I want you. If you do this, enjoy it or not, and believe me know just how much you will enjoy Liam’ big-daddy cock, and you still want to come back to me... Then, all is right with us.”

It was a couple weeks after Louis’ first time with Liam when Zayn had yet another test-their-relationship commitment proposal for Louis.

“Louis, you know in a few weeks its Met Gala. Haven't you said it's your dream to go someday?”

“Yes,” Louis says as he is on the verge of falling asleep having been riding Zayn long and hard for the second time asking them to the late night hour of 1AM. “I have.”

Zayn looks at his lover. Beautifully positioned on his side, his legs slightly bent, his bare arse where Zayns hand rest still extra warm from their love-making. “Well a friend of mine is going. He needs a date. He really isn't comfortable with all the fashion stuff. It is a big moment for him because he's going to be coming out so to speak. By that I mean he wants an escort, a male escort. Someone who looks good on his arm. I mentioned that if he were up for it, you might go with him. Would you consider that for me?”

Louis opens his eyes. “For you? Is this escort as in his date or is this one of those Liam-things?”

Zayn plays with this since he has given it considerable thought how nice the idea is of his lover being dicked by Niall while he watches. Perhaps they will both have him, later. Two cocks in one very used hole.

“Well, it is up to you Louis. I would never force you into anything you are uncomfortable with. I would say _yes_ though to a Liam-thing if you like him. He is rather fit, fun, and immensely popular.”

Louis hums, but he is pouting and not prompting any agreeance. “Who is this friend? Do I know him?”

“Well he has been on the circuit so much since we have been a couple, you haven't met him before, but I believe you know of him. Niall Horan?”

Louis’ tone changes. Interest peaked perhaps he asks, “Golf pro Niall Horan?”

“Yes. So you know him?”

With sarcasm and a mundane smile, Louis confirms the role he'll play and whatever else Zayn would ask for, “Nope. Never heard of him.”

***

Louis opens the door. The light from the hall is the only one in the room, as the smell of a burning nicotine must alert him that Zayn is waiting for him in the dark living room of their flat.

“Zayn?”

Zayn turns on the light beside where he sits. As soon as Louis is visible there is no doubt the day made a turn for the worst. In the second it took for him to go to Zayn, the look Louis wears hints that he is disappointed in his session with Harry.

Louis comes to Zayn crawling onto his lap, putting a kiss to Zayn's lips that is long, yet light enough to ask for their reassurance rather than passion. When he is finished he presses his forehead to Zayn’s, their lips barely parted as he keeps himself tucked in his boyfriend’s lap.

“Something tells me it didn’t go so well then, with Harry?”

“No. It definitely didn't go so well. I did like you suggested. I was there early to wait for him. When he came in I asked him if we could talk privately about what he said on the Corden show. Like you suggested, he was feeling threatened by me being signed.”

Louis sits up a little. Zayn can see his face, the expression deepening with disappointment as he continues. “And then it got worse. And again like you said- he had this wall up, he went into how we can’t be friends. He was shut off to talking.. I thought maybe I should try again after we were done because the first time I tried to talk to him I didn't follow the script you told me to use.”

Louis looks uncomfortable in his confession. Zayn has his breath held hoping to hear Louis came away believing the lies about Harry that Zayn has fed him.

Fiddling with his shirt's hem, unable to look at Zayn’s eye, he continues. “You said you were phased out of modeling when Nick prized Harry over you and it might not have happened if there was more a chemistry between you, which their wasn’t. You suggested going in today to try to flirt with him, but it wasn't the sort of setting to do that. When Nick finished with me, I waited for Harry. When he was done I tried again, I even threw myself at him and tried to kiss him.”

Louis’ hands go to covering his face. “It’s the worst thing ever, he not only pushed me away but he called me, well, then he...he, he said he saw me and Liam, and ...”

Zayn knows he's done wrong to Louis. Playing with Harry, while intending to sustain his relationship, is a dangerous game. He gathers Louis against him, kissing his face. Offering Louis his cigarette to share, he tries to comfort, “Louis you did all you could. It has to devastating when you admire someone and they don't see you as worthy, but modeling is a competitive world. Most models have their guard up whenever they are confronted with another, prettier face.”

Louis brushes his hurt aside for a second. His crush on Harry remaining intact. “Zayn you don’t really believe that I am prettier, compared to Harry, or you, I’m not in the same league.”

Zayn kisses Louis’ cheekbone, his index finger brushes Louis’ jawline, “If you could see yourself as I do, you would see there is no one as perfect as you. You, Louis Tomlinson, are perfect to me.”

***

His guilty pleasures are so tedious with the amount of preparation it takes to maintain the fantasy. Zayn takes an emotionally battered Louis to their bed.

Some minutes later Zayn has Louis, face down, bum up. His fingers find the bundle of nerves, brushing there only teasingly enough to make Louis beg for more of it.

With Louis nearly in tears for wanting cock, continuously begging in between his little pants, Zayn pulls his fingers out making Louis gasp his desire for what he believes is finally coming.

“Yas, give me your big dick, ‘m so close...”

Zayn doesn’t oblige Louis. He strokes his own cock with one hand, the other hand continues its stroking with Louis’ arse. Louis is weakened to Zayn's curiosity. “There is something else in that exchange with Harry that you aren't telling me, isn't there?”

The fifth degree ends from Zayn eagerly licking into the gaping hole he had eaten out in the first minutes of their love-making. Louis loses control. It is his tongue that feels the honey walls of Louis’ body spasming almost in timing with his own cock as he has Louis and himself coming together. Louis lets out choked sounds in the duration of his orgasm.

Zayn contemplates his scheming. Before night’s end, he will exhaust Louis enough to carry into the morning when Louis walks into Grimshaw’s.

Likely Harry will recognize the look of one who has been so well fucked. Hopefully, this will enhance a view of Louis that Zayn has created. Feed the hatred. Spawn the pain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t thank Zhong_truly enough for the work here. 
> 
> Stay safe. Read. Comment. Share the love.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We have a sea change coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moodboard* for this chapter can be found at http://palosquared.tumblr.com/
> 
> *Might help with understanding the look of Louis’ jumper as described here.  
> ***

Louis has difficulty in not making a scene from the amount of waddling that he suffers from. So naturally, everyone can conclude, well… Louis is sore.

Upon seeing this, Nick almost stabs his tongue with the pins, in between his teeth, from the muscle thickening. Liam, who was in the middle of a conversation with the designer, experiences a coughing fit with irregular swallowing.

The photographer recovers, he couldn’t help himself from a snide remark to Louis, “Rode hard last night? That boyfriend of yours might want to ease off when you have a busy schedule the next day.”

Louis shrugs. Nick pulls the pins from his mouth to let out a laugh toward the pair’s interaction.

Never do Louis’ eyes seek Harry as he greets the others with a signature hand gesture. All intents and purposes, the way Louis meanders into the workroom with ease- like Harry isn't even a living entity- is cause for Harry to have a pang, a yearning, to be seen. Acknowledged by Louis. Those blue eyes, a well-fucked Louis, has come into work today not only with a sore bum but also with an emotional shield of armor. He gives Harry no formal recognition, by anyone’s standards.

Work starts. It is Harry who Nick gives the first crack at the two looks that their seamstresses sewed up during the night before. Harry doesn't have to do much while Nick makes his notes of his details, his likes, and those he does not want on the next set of designs based on the current fitting. Meanwhile, Harry does what any glorified, living, dress form would do.

He scans the room for distractions. Off to the side, where Liam is preparing to shoot for photos that Nick can later reference, Louis is messing around. Louis is deliberately pestering and playfully distracting Liam as a method of ignoring Harry’s existence.

Neglection has a confounding effect on Harry. It compels him to become vivacious with Nick. Speaking thunderously with hand gestures and exaggerated expressions. Entirely apparent that his intended audience is halfway across the studio.

As regaling as Harry’s forced wit is, Louis doesn’t seem to care about anything that the other model is saying. This dismissal never happens to Harry Styles.

Nick finishes his inspection of the seamstress' transformations to his patterns, other muslin forms made ready for sewing into finished garments with the selected pieces, there is nothing left for Liam to do but wait for Nick to finish with Harry. Later, the same will happen to Louis. In the absence of tasks requiring Liam’s attention, he engages with Louis in the downtime.

Engages meaning that when Harry turns to where Liam and Louis are, as Nick instructs Louis that it is his turn, Harry finds that Liam has pressed his body close to Louis’. Louis being confined between a tripod mounting one light for the photography and the body of the taller, muscular Liam. Liam is using an index finger, lifting Louis’ chin, lightly caressing there. Each shares a tender moment looking into the other’s eyes. Their position and their nearly inaudible conversation have much intimacy encompassing it.

“Louis,” Nick calls Louis again aware that Louis wasn’t listening the first time when Nick called him. “If it is not too much a bother, would you mind if I used you for a change?”

Harry likes the reference to Louis’ body getting used around. Only sort of not. He realizes as Louis pulls away from Liam, Liam leaving his hand with a gentle, consistent contact to Louis like to say “don't go”, that there is something about Louis that makes one not want to let him go. Harry also notes that there is a contour of a forming erection outlined in Liam’s pants. An after-effect of Liam being so closely pressed with Louis.

Assuming he is to try on the first two outfits, Louis lifts his shirt up to pull it off. On Louis’ skin, along with many tats are various fresh marks.

Someone, probably the boyfriend, Niall, made a mess of him. Trails of bruises from lips sucking on skin litter Louis’ body. Once he is out of his pants, his hips and upper thighs reveal they too show more of these lovers’ brands. There can be no other explanation to why Louis looked ravished thoroughly.

Nick says nothing about the blemishes. It is a standard model contract violation to have bruises and recreational marks. Of this Nick doesn't speak. He sends Harry over to have Liam do some basic stock photos for him to work off of later. This is how Nick typically builds more designs into a cohesive line. 

Stock photos are made with Harry in the two looks Nick has ready, Louis is instructed to replace Harry being photographed. Harry steps down from the platform to hand over his clothing.

“Harry, please wait. Before you change out of that, I want Louis to get dressed into the first look then I will have Liam photograph the two of you together. You’ll showcase them both at once! I want to have a studio image to preview what I will have Liam capture, in an outdoor setting, for a print ad campaign with the launch. I think the images will set the tone for the entire collection nicely.”

Louis switches his wardrobe, and Harry takes notice of what the former had worn originally. He had missed it while he was working with Liam. For the first time, Harry has to see what he is sure he will never unsee. The unusual jumper Nick has created for Louis has a forceful vibe with a powerful message.

The jumper is snug, its jersey-knit cotton, has a traditional menswear heaviness within the fabric. In contrast to what is typically used, this jumper also has cutouts that Harry has only ever seen done in womenswear. Using cutouts transitions with the looks being modeled nicely because Harry has items that have some sheer panels much like his Met Gala look. Harry has a predominantly feminine accent to his pieces while Louis has masculine fabrics but paired with feminine tailoring.

It is unfounded creativity to see a men’s jumper with such gender-liberal finishes. Particularly given the placement of the cutouts.

There are a few things about Louis’ distinctive physique that beg for attention.

His arse? Obviously.

His arms? Certainly. For being one so slender and slightly built, Louis has exceptionally nicely shaped, lithe arm musculature.

And finally, a feature that should never be ignored - as it was not during the nighttime friskiness indicative of the number of marks left sucked into the flesh- would be Louis’ collarbones. Nick has magnified this trait.

Aware of whose body he was designing for, a true marvel that the design made the jersey work on a male’s form.

The placement of the cutouts leaves the mock turtle neck collar supported in four places while having considerable negative space. Fabric is contiguous with the mock turtle neck collar with fabric covering the chest and back directly under the neck and toward along the top of each shoulder, where there is a strip of fabric similar to how the tabs of a trench coat, are positioned.

The trench coat-like strips at the apex of both shoulders that connect the seam at top of the sleeve to the mock turtleneck collar hint at something synonymous to bondage; the vacant space of the right-triangles align so Louis’ collarbones are both exposed and emphasized.

While the fabric of Louis’ jumper doesn't suggest submissiveness, the design says “imagine me in a collar”. Similar to the dress that Nick had made for Tessa, one half of the actress’s Academy Awards gown had a very dominatrix attitude to it. The other half had the same soft femininity to it that Nick has acquainted himself with for two years as inspired by his muse, his superstar model, Harry Styles.

By Louis joining Nick’s creative process as a second component, it seems Nick is considering venturing into S and M. Harry doesn't need another reminder of how Louis will be whatever new fetish the designer needs, whatever the famed-photographer needs, whatever that was when Liam fucked Louis right in the workroom right alongside where Nick was working. All three are behaving as if this is normal workplace decorum. Harry is falling out of fashion.

Hackles raise on the back of Harry’s neck. He realizes that the shade of blue, dyed into the jumper Louis models, is so vibrant that it makes Louis’ eyes echo in its intensity. His golden skin pioneers through the top and appears unmistakingly sun-kissed. These two infusions of richer depth of color also compliments Louis’ lips such that they seem a purer, more pristine pink.

Nick goes to where Liam has a basic staging of props. This setting allows Nick to brainstorm ideas for his other pieces of the developing collection.

He consults with Liam as Harry and Louis listen in. They outline a series of poses and generally; the stocks are never exceptional, but with how Nick wants Liam’s pictures with both models, Nick is very detailed.

“So I want Louis seated, leaning back, his arms extended so we will have a proper image of how I’ve done the placement of fabric. Lift his chin slightly, angled between looking up at Harry and the camera. We want to capture the brilliant blue of his eyes.“ Louis gets onto the set and follows direction. “Now with Harry, he needs to tower over Louis, bending a little like this,” Nick spreads his legs as if to stabilize himself, “and his arms positioned like this,” his arms remain against his hips.

“Now what I am envisioning is something that we can build on later when we do this at our actual outdoor session. That Louis is reclining slightly, sun-kissed, so open- his legs parted too- almost forgot that. I want him sitting like his full thighs are welcoming. The location of his arms should reflect his too, like he wants to bring one in.” The model repositions himself as Nick continues sharing his vision.

“Then we have Harry. Tall, handsome, the dream for every person. We want him to look like he has seen this siren, and he has just run in to take him. His legs say he ran. His posture hovering over his claim implies his lust.” Harry inches forward to the spot besides Louis, just a minor concern for what Nick has in store for the pair.

“The last thing, their lips!” The designer is exciting himself, and his employees can do nothing but stare on until he finishes, “We have Harry whose lips are plump as berries and as truly berry-pigmented as any can be. I want a photo where we have the contrast of his lips and Louis’ paler ones. Stop me if I am getting ahead of myself, but he’s like delicate yeah, and if he parts them; it’s like he has his breath taken away at the sight of Harry and Harry is about to consume him.”

For the first time rejoins those watching him.

“I’d like to capture that magical moment before a kiss when the best of anticipation is a spark, a fear, a hope. The hope? Knowing that this is the one.”

Nick is proud of this fantasy that he’s created, cheesing at his brain’s capability. However, it is lost to him the effect he has on others’ lives, and a shiver runs through every vertebrae of Harry’s spine.

The two of them perfect their arrangement; Louis sitting, slightly reclined his body oriented to invite one to come into violate his space. As intoxicating as the creature Nick compared him to. Even although aware of the staged scenario, this causes no barrier to Harry breaking out in a nervous sweat because of the unexpected.

As Harry leans in, he is hit with the scent of Louis. It is a blend of something like cedar and something like citrus. So close, Harry notices for the first time that Louis has a few adorable little freckles or moles on one cheek, but no, not moles. Harry decides that they are more like freckles because they are miniscule and light as the only sign that his skin is not artificial in how unblemished and perfect it is with radiance that Louis always seems to exude.

The sound of the camera snapping pictures is in Harry’s ears, the essence of Louis in his nostrils, when Harry has no clue how it happens because Louis is motionless but there it is; lips on lips.

Harry only understands it was him who started the kiss when he finds his tongue inserting inside part of Louis' mouth. With Louis being nearly motionless, the only sign from Louis as a participant in this unscripted act is a brief sound he makes. One of which is uninterpretable. Is it a protest? Would he reject it if it were not part of his job? Or could it be that he wants more?

Harry astounded that he wants Louis’ sound to signify the latter. This is the second time his lips and Louis’ have met and had his brain, his being, his soul convey the message  _ this is the one  _ the kiss ends. The sight of Louis' eyes on him as he pulls back leaves much to be desired. From the commotion in the surrounding room, the way Nick and Liam go from shocked-silent to rapidly talking over each other; Harry knows surprise caught them all.

“Why did you do that?” Harry hollers at Louis. Stepping back, like time would reverse from his distance.

Lous’ eyebrows tangle together. “What do you mean, I wasn't moving a muscle!”

Defensively, Harry protests, “Yes, yes you were.  _ You  _ kissed me.” Having stated this he glances quickly at Nick and Liam, who decide they’ll witness it all unfold. Louis counters with, “Then explain how your tongue got in my mouth.”

Harry hasn't any explanation. Fortunately, Nick breaks the tension. “Okay, enough of that.Now this time, Harry, I want you to remember that we are going for  _ implying  _ a want, a desire, not acting on it. I need a mockup of shots we might use when we do the full photoshoot at the sites. You need to ignore the appeal of your fellow model, proper twink or not, and stick to what I’ve worked up. Each of your looks will tell a story. I need your bodies doing the story’s narration.”

Harry fixed his mouth to convince everyone of his innocence, Louis made that happen, if for no other reason then Harry feels he is being treated dismissively like Louis is in Nick’s better graces, when Nick finds another cause to issue reprimand of Louis.

“And Louis,” Nick judges, pulling Louis to his feet to then putting a finger on a bruised spot visible on skin where the cutouts make skin exposed, “it would be best to have your boyfriend abstain from this littering before the formal photoshoot of the full collection. We convey you're an expensive little treat to win, not some cheap slut.” 

Suddenly, Harry feels better about himself.

The kiss just happened. Harry isn't sure he wouldn't want it to happen for a third time. His tongue dancing lightly in Louis’ mouth left him wanting it to deepen.

***

One of Harry’s regular reads is the “About Town” section of the London Times. It usually includes photos of London persons of interest. Harry is routinely a favorite feature.

This morning the paper offers a picture of Liam and Louis. Both are sharp dressed. Louis is identified as Nick Grimshaw's new, “rising star” model. Liam is described as a “celebrated photographer”. The paper reports their attendance at a premiere together.

There is no mention of them as a couple, but it resembles a date. Harry can’t fathom how Niall is okay with all this free exchange, but when Harry thinks about it for too long, he comes away a little less enticed by Niall. Replacing prior desire is a deepening curiosity for what it might be like to be with Louis, why is Louis so appealing to so many others.

It can’t be based purely on appearances. The world is full of beautiful people. Harry’s ex was, is, arguably one of the most stunningly beautiful people in the world. Zayn only became toxic for Harry with his growing disposition of moodiness, his sullen behavior, his pouting, if Harry didn't make him feel right.

Reflecting on his encounters with Louis’ popularity may attribute to how fun, light-hearted, and  _ sunny  _ he is.

Increased fascination drives Harry to do some research.

Louis wasn’t just discovered by Nick. In his interview on Corden’s show, Louis insisted he was a regular lad from Dony, meaning Doncaster, but he has been around in lesser prominent modeling circles for some years. Indeed, he had modeled extensively for James.

It isn't easy to find a lot about Louis given he hasn't been out there in the public sphere at the level of Harry, Zayn, or Niall. It takes Harry considerable time. Most of Harry’s searches only pull up the recent news about how Louis Tomlinson signed to modeling only for Grimshaw.

Little by little, a persistent Harry finds more history. What he finds challenges the image he has coined Louis of being only interested in whoring around with any random bloke.

Louis, Harry learns, has a tight relationship with his family consistent with Louis, the “Louie”, illustrated in Harry’s childhood diary.

Louis is the oldest of five. He has four younger, half sisters; all of which are from a second marriage between his mother, Jay, to Mark Tomlinson. Tomlinson has been Louis’ family name since he was a young child. This has Harry thinking more about his entries in the diary. He remembers only two sisters, Lottie and Fizzy, though his mum was very pregnant.

More digging throughout the internet leads to a depiction of Louis being a very devoted brother and loving son consistent with the diary. Jay Tomlinson works in philanthropy. She actively fundraises for several charities, all her fundraising services being donated expertise. At most major fundraising events Jay attends, her escort has been her son. One tidbit of information about the family describes Jay’s son as an attractive lad who hopes to make it in the competitive world of modeling.

Further research reveals that all of Jay’s fundraising focuses on helping organizations that target benefitting children, usually children’s medical charities; Bluebell Woods, Children's Air Ambulance, the list goes on and on. When Jay has public events as part of the philanthropy her son accompanies her because he looks to have an innate ability to connect with children. The pictures Harry finds of Louis with kids shows this in the children’s palpable gravitation to him like he is the sun. This is another confirmation of the childhood archetype, one deserving of title of Harry’s first love, is the person Harry has been trying to push away.

***

He hates this club, and the Thursday night mood does not provide a reason for Harry being an attendee. In retrospect, he only ever frequented it because Zayn had always loved it. Unlike more upscale establishments, this one hasn’t been identified as a place to be seen. Perhaps that is why Zayn liked it. That, and how this club has a fairly large percentage of the people Harry suspected Zayn was on the look for. So again, why he came here Harry hasn’t a clue.

Harry deduced after his second drink and his turning away of many offers to dance, the motive to this approach only worked to add more misery to what was already built up. To cauterize emotions because the past few days at Grimshaw’s studios have become increasingly insufferable.

The reason for Harry’s misery?

Louis.

Louis and his adorably addictive, playfulness while working at the studio. Louis and his ability to make Liam laugh. Louis and his mastery of causing Nick lose his train of thought all with such a tremendous comedy that despite how Harry is trying not to like him, Harry finds he can't. Can’t help but watch Louis and be amazed at how he is like ultraviolet filling a room. Can’t ignore watching Louis as he frequently jigs around in the room, much of the time mostly naked, if he is not being made to stay still for Nick to pin something on him. Louis is so cheerful and well...insufferably cute.

And all that personality comes in the form of a person who is small, dainty, refined...well except for his arse. His damn tempting arse. His tiny waist. His delicate bone structure. His sublimely smooth velvet skin. Harry has had to see far too much of all of this in the past few days as they've worked though modeling a rapidly building collection of Nick’s fresh looks. Nick is early in scheduling. Liam easily builds the stock portfolio and collaborates with Nick to lie out the final storyboard for the official images to launch the line.

The worst part of it is how every time they are at work Harry has to fight the demon; Louis stripped down to his briefs has an irritating effect on Harry’ dick.

There are only so many times a dude can wank off for placating one’s fantasies before the need for real human touch for satisfaction takes over. Therefore, Harry is here. The place he hates, but Zayn loves. The last he heard about Zayn after their breakup was that Zayn was already with a new partner, someone he met at this very club… 

Harry turns around from where he was watching the crowd to see none other than the one he's trying to avoid thoughts of.

Louis in a sea of men on the dance floor. Or rather Louis  _ with  _ men crowding around him, into him, their hands, their bodies trying to fight for a position where they have the most contact with this dancing, swaying delicate twink.

It appears Harry is not the only one on the hunt although in Louis’ case he appears to have landed his pick of them. Five much too handsome, much to brawny men have made a cocoon with Louis at the center. No wonder Harry didn't see him before. Now that he has, he can’t take his eyes off the cause for his need of escapism.

Harry has repeatedly done his best to squash all the images Nick’s designs for the Louis’ side of the collection put in his head. This practice of blanking out is nearly impossible when garment after garment Nick puts Louis in has subtle references to S and M or sub.

If Nick isn’t including these amazing cutouts in an otherwise sporty looking jumper, he has this other approach to his suggestive designs. This jumper has leather accents crisscrossing the torso with an o-ring in the middle,  _ a harness _ . 

Confronted with Louis on the dance floor, without his golf pro boyfriend, has Harry compelled to move in. Several of the blokes with Louis are Harry’s stature. More muscled, but no taller. Two are both taller and much more fit. Probably the only reason Harry gets a window to come close to Louis is because the sight of Harry Styles has the effect of some of them lowering their guard on their target.

Target is the correct word, with the proximity, he is shocked by a knackered Louis. To the side of where this Louis-cluster is dancing is a table full of shot glasses. Several pints in various degrees of full or empty are sat there too. Louis still has a pint, half-full, in one hand and he seems to spill more of it than he sips as he is so unstable on his feet. Surely, the plan is to take Louis should he offer or pass out, depending upon which comes first.

The five men with Louis have to occasionally press on their flies to adjust to the discomfort of being made aroused. Meanwhile, the one mindless to all this bounces between them; spilling beer, oblivious, and carefree.

In one drunken dance turn, Louis stops. Nearly falling because he is that drunken-clumsy he catches himself on Harry fully dumping the rest of his beer on Harry’s chest. Harry catches him too.

Louis smiling, letting himself hang there clamoring on Harry a bit, he calls out “Haarrreh” entirely too loudly.

Acceptance of Harry becomes questionable as Louis seems content to be complacently clinging onto the newcomer.

Louis gathers his feet under himself a bit. He sways not because of music but because he is at that point of dumb-drunk.

“Harreh, hows’it going,” Louis’ hand goes to Harry’s face, and he repeats “Harreh”. The way Louis‘ hand clumsily glides over Harry’s face advises that Louis is using touch for clearance, like he isn't sure if he is seeing who he thinks he is.

Harry tries to support Louis. His hands were met by several sets of other hands. The five are considering an extraction, take their prize away from Harry, attractive celebrity model or not.

“Louis how many drinks have you had? You don’t seem so good, mate.”

Harry’s concern has one of the five taking charge. He steps in to block Harry as two others pull Louis back from Harry. If they hadn't had him in arms Louis would have fallen as his legs give out again. The one who stepped in confronts Harry.

“Styles isn’t it? He is with us, back off.”

Louis fusses but his words are a running mess. Adding to it, his Doncaster accent has thickened so much in his inebriated state that less than one percent of the entire population of the UK could identify his words as English. Harry detects a few words that sound like profanity. Louis is protesting his company.

Harry isn't deterred by the numbers of the little dance party. “Doesn't sound like he is committed to being with you lot.”

Louis attempts to pull away from one of the two. He drops to the floor but the same two pull him back up one bringing Louis into his chest in a claiming hold.

“Harreh...” Louis says as his head droops. Harry’s name was the last thing he said before he blacked out.

...

Harry had helped bring Louis out to his car. Just before Louis passed out a bouncer had noticed the activity of the seven people. A decision about whom to release the unconscious patron to. For the club, there is a liability when a person is nearly dead-drunk.

Given that Harry was the only one who could offer Louis' last name, Harry accepts the responsibility. The bouncer escorted them through the crowd and outside to Harry’s car, offering that Louis visits the hospital; adding, “I knew this one would be in trouble tonight. He’s a regular. Usually comes here with his boyfriend. When he came in tonight, I asked where his friend was and he said they had a fight, his boyfriend is an arse. No surprise he was on a bender. I was monitoring him, relieved when someone came along who knew him. Better get him help.”

Once Harry is halfway to the hospital Louis stirs. Harry pulls over safely, goes to the passenger door, opening it. Louis practically rolls out as he purges.

It is revolting when someone vomits. Unless they are someone you love. In those times, all you feel is their suffering. No one you love should ever be that ill. Even when it appears from what the bouncer said, that the misery was self-inflicted. Harry is empathetic. The painful intensity that remains after love fails. His own last bender-drinking experience, Zayn-induced, caused him to get into much the same condition as Louis.

Niall as the trigger for this is surprising given how Niall has always come across as affable, but here is evidence to the contrary. Louis, ill from passion gone wrong.

Maybe what Harry saw was not as he thought it was. Liam knew of the boyfriend. Maybe a triangle exists, like the one tattooed on Louis’ ankle, a symbol of something Harry was too quick to judge.

Harry can only let Louis’ purging take its course. As this goes on Harry hands feel how every upwelling is full-body taxing. The heaves wind-down, spent contents gone, ripples of the waves of nausea subside. Harry knows Louis will have a quick minute or two of almost cognizant awareness of his surroundings before the alcohol will consume him again. At the first sign of cease to Louis’ heaving, and Harry repositions Louis in his seat, wipes his face with a cloth and buckles Louis back in.

“Louis? Louis, listen to me. I’m concerned you have alcohol poisoning. I can take you home if you tell me your address but I think you should be at the hospital. It’s up to you. Where do I take you?”

Louis opens his eyes. Tears slowly form in them. His voice strains with the acid and alcohol of the contents he tossed.

“Yours? Please. Can't go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very sex-filled Larry chapter is next - finally! Maybe with a surprise. 
> 
> Love to read some comments. Thank you.


	7. The Change

Harry makes it swiftly from his car to his flat despite carrying a limp Louis’ in his arms. The ease with which Harry can manage Louis confirms how bad it may have gone for Louis leaving the club in the company of the five, hulky, predatory men, had Harry not come along.

Once inside, he stops at the bathroom, and undresses the unconscious model to wash off the odor which is a mix of club-stank, alcohol, stomach contents and sweat. The sweat Harry presumes is not Louis’ alone. He saw how sweat-drenched the bloke who pulled Louis into him was when conflict broke out to lay claim to Louis. The stench of foreign testosterone becomes intolerable to Harry, now that Louis will be settled in his bed.

All that is left to remove from Louis are the tiny briefs he always wears when Harry falters. Harry pauses with his hands on the elastic. He has never seen Louis’ completely frontal nude. With the Liam fiasco much of Louis was blocked by how Liam had him bent over the work table. 

Slowly Harry begins the pull. With each inch that is revealed it appears that Louis keeps things impeccably groomed. His happy trail is nonexistent, hairless smooth skin is revealed with each fraction of an inch unclothed. Harry takes one deep centering breath before he makes the last strong tug where what is hidden there will pop out from its concealment.

He discovers the pretty, flaccid cock is uncircumcised and tempting. No rug of hair crowds Louis’ balls. An exposed Louis makes Harry want to see a fully aroused Louis. Everything about Louis presents as an ideal twink package. Adding to it is a growing understanding of Louis. Louis’ coy playfulness with Liam, teasing nature at work, other aspects of his personality, hints that Louis must be a firecracker in bed. Playful? Yes. A bit demanding? Probably. Demanding in an adorably needy cock-whore sort of way? All the better! 

One thing Harry has concluded from his little research of the pre-Grimshaw model Louis is how Louis is very much like a prism. Brilliant and dazzling. While he sometimes can come off slutty around men, Louis has this whole other side to his multi-faceted persona; he is a loving brother, devoted son, caring role model. 

Shrugging off the urges welling up, Harry places Louis into the bath that was filling while he stripped off Louis’ clothing. He takes off his own clothes and joins his guest. Concerns about the alcohol-saturated bloodstream weigh heavily on Harry. He wonders if this is a potentially fatal mistake. Feeling over Louis’ smaller form, as he washes him down, Harry experiences the inevitable consequence of a dick stiffening Louis unintentionally generates. 

Louis is perfect.

***

After the bath Harry tries to wake Louis to offer him some pills and water. Unsuccessful, Harry intends to slide Louis closer to the middle of the bed so so he can easily reach the bedside water and ibuprofen should Louis stir. 

His approach to moving is a Louis mistake. Shifting Louis, from face up to face down to roll him to the center has Harry confronted with something too enticing to ignore; Louis’ positively glorious bum. 

Harry can’t resist the want to touch. One small touch, surely, Harry thinks, can do no harm. 

With one hand makes contact to the plush tush. Soon as he does this he has to ask himself why is his hand still there?

He wills his other hand to remove the rogue hand, but instead the second hand also becomes convinced to take part in feeling more.

There is no control of his hands now that they have both landed on divinity's creation. 

Caressing the curvature, enchanted by the proportions being all too beautiful, Harry‘s cognition fails him. He separates the cheeks.

“Oh fuck me Louis,” Harry says aloud to himself, “how on earth are you _this_ perfect?”

Keeping Louis’ cheeks parted to reveal the tiny, puckering of flesh, pretty, with its pink petal-like ring has Harry’s brain is convinced that it calls to him.

_One little lick_ it says, _just one_?

Harry lets the tip of his tongue touch _there_.

The little lick, the touch, becomes several rapid flicks. When Harry realizes that he has taken a preparatory breath before deepening a hungry pursuit, he finally gathers a small measure of self-control on himself.

“What are you doing Styles?” This, Harry’s second audible comment. Following this is a silent reprimand of himself for his failure to be the hero he set out to be. Confronted with Louis in his bed he is about to turn into what those other men would have been, had they taken Louis home with them. 

Harry has not gained consent for this violation. Garnering some self control he gives Louis the respect Louis deserves. Harry resigns to pull the covers over both of them. He takes a minute to study Louis’ face becoming content to turn off the small, bedside light. 

***

Before the sun rises thrashing within the sheets jostles Harry to wake.

Turning on the small, bedside lamp, he finds Louis is very restless. “Louis, Louis, you gonna be sick again?”

Louis shakes his head. A cracked voice moans, “Haarreh? Headache.”

Harry struggles in interpreting if that is what Louis said. Maybe it was “headache headache”. Maybe Louis doesn't remember asking to come home with him. Perhaps what Louis said was “Harry? Harry?” Hopefully Louis is unaware how much Harry has been borderline, or more correctly over-the-line with ‘exploration’. Harry offers to Louis the water and the two pills he has ready for if Louis wakes. 

“Take this,” Harry directs. Louis doesn’t move. “Take this,” Harry presses a second time as he gently helps Louis raise up to lean against the headboard “and drink all the water. You have got to be badly dehydrated.”

Louis’ hands shake as they take the cup to his lips to sip from it. He looks so soft and fragile in his self-induced misery. Harry has an impulse to adjust Louis' hair which is a massive bed-head mess. The adjustment doesn’t stick but Harry was compelled to do it by some force of attraction. The natural highlights aren't visible in the darkness. Somehow Harry imagines there is a tingling sensation like sunshine igniting on his fingertips caused by something electrochemical in the act of touching some part of one he is so attracted to.

And there it is. To himself Harry must admit. _He is deeply attracted to Louis._

Louis settles back down into the bed, water finished, a faintly offered, “Thank you Harry,” which has Harry compelled to question. 

“Louis, those men, at the club...they seemed convinced they would have a go with you,” Harry pauses, uncertain if Louis is awake. 

All he gets from Louis is a response that sounds like a “grrr-umpf”. 

“Were you? With them, wanting to be?”

Louis rolls away from Harry which must take considerable effort. Harry waits, he needs to see Louis’ face to have this conversation. He moves to the other side of his bed where a hint of ambient light from the cityscape that is filtering into the bedroom allows him to see his bed-mate. 

The cut of Louis’ cheekbone and jawline are exquisite. His one clearly visible eyelash looks to flutter ever so slight like he struggles between wakeful and sleep forcing himself to answer Harry. 

“Yes, no...I mean yes, but not that was I wanted to. It’s just a thing with _us_.”

The implication is unclear. Vague as Louis’ meaning is Harry makes speculate to interpret it. “By us, meaning you and your boyfriend? Is that why you didn't want me to take you home?”

“Yes.” Louis shifts a bit, his face now angled away. In the dim light his bone structure is no less dramatic. “It’s become difficult. He likes me being the slutty fuckboy as he likes to call me, he talks like this some sort of test.”

Harry nods, “So that time, with Liam, that was all for him, your boyfriend, you performing a test?”

Louis is quiet for a minute. The silence has Harry calculating if he has any right to pry. Louis isn’t answering for some reason. Is this Louis’ dilemma? His impasse with Niall? 

Harry switches the subject off of Niall to another curiosity but not directly about the insufferable boyfriend. “Do you even like Liam? I mean _like him_ like him? I know you get along well at work together but do you like him outside of that, enough to bottom for him.”

“Well, yes, I do.” Lifting up slightly, peering out from heavy-lidded eyes, Louis’ stutter can hardly be contained, “d-do you think bottoming is so bad or something?”

Harry has had this subject as an issue, because of Zayn, but he doesn't mean to appear to be so much a twat as he may have sounded. “Oh no, I don't mean it like that sounded. I meant that I am confused. So you were out to pick up some random, for your boyfriend, to then go home, cum-creamed...”

“Yes, or don’t come home, he said. I kept trying to drink away how fucked up it’s gotten between us. He’s gotten so moody, especially lately, like he is always thinking of something else, _someone_ else. I don't know if he is cheating on me or what, but it is like he always is pushing me out there to be a cheater too. But he wasn’t always like this. At the start he was really so sweet. I don’t know that I can go back to him, do more of this. Liam has nothing to do with any of it. They are friends and I so no, I am _am not_ leading Liam on, if that is what you are getting at. I wouldn't mind being with Liam instead but I’m, um, well, that wouldn't be fair to Liam. You know when you fantasize about someone else, you want to be with, the love triangle thing...”

Louis halting with this much shared leads Harry guess there was more to be said but Louis, exhausted, is emotionally and physically incapable. Harry takes the pause as a signal to let the fuller story come as it may without pressuring Louis once he is feeling better. With Louis’ breathing taking on the deep rhythm of sleep Harry must let the curiosities wait.

***

It’s barely daylight when Harry leaves the bed to make a phone call from the other room as to not wake Louis. Nick is not happy to be woken so early but is appreciative when Harry’s reason for the call, a lie Harry fabricates, is to let Nick know that he won’t be able to come into the studios today.

“Well now, that I think about it, Harry, I have been pushing this along rather quickly. You know, it might be good for all of us to have a long weekend. We all should take the day off. Take care of your urgent family business. I’ll see you back at the studio on Monday.”

Harry responds graciously. He offers to call Liam and Louis for Nick. Nick appreciates the offer but says he’ll let them know himself. A few minutes later as Harry is using the bathroom he hears Louis’ phone chime from where it lays along with a clump of Louis’ clothes. The phone just received a message. Most likely from Nick.

Once Harry is back in bed he spends a few minutes studying what of Louis, he can. Harry’s stirring causes Louis near-wakefulness but ultimately results in Louis merely shifting to nest closer to him. Louis’ arms find Harry before a deeper sleep takes him away from Harry again. With Louis having so sealed himself skin to skin to Harry, an arm and a leg over Harry, this has Harry wondering. Is Louis dreaming he is safe at home with his boyfriend?

It doesn’t seem like Niall Horan really could be two such distinctly different people but then how does anyone really know the difference between a public persona and what is the secret life of an actual person. Louis said it is complicated with them. He also sounded like someone who was planning to make a pivotal decision. Was Louis’ coming home with Harry step-one of ending a relationship?

***

There is a much brighter light flooding the room signifying it is well past daybreak when Harry wakes a second time. It is not the light that woke Harry. Rather it is the feeling of something between his legs and a tickling sensation on his cock.

Louis has wedged himself between Harry’s slightly parted legs. With a tip of his tongue is licking ever so lightly on Harry’s cock this is the cause of the tickle.

Harry makes a quick glance at the water glass beside the table. It shows that Louis had drank the second glass of water, taken more meds Harry resupplied bedside when he was up to call Nick. 

“Louis?”

Louis looks up from where his pretty face is positioned right over Harry’s package. His smile signifies he is delighted at what is before him. Louis’ lack of even the tiniest blush implies that cock-whore side of him is ruling his disposition.

“Yes, Harry?”

“Making yourself at home are we?”

This has Louis pushing himself up away from what he started. His brows do an abbreviated knit together as he puts on a face meant in a play-acting sort of way to express an innocence.

“Oh, well,” Louis makes a little lick over Harry’s waking dick he stays with holding in a hand, “thought maybe I could give you a proper thank you for keeping me out of trouble. You know,” Louis taking a second swipe with a tongue over the erection he is building. The one hand fueling Harry’s hard-on with the simplest tongue-touch Louis adds, “consider this my little way to say thank you.”

Louis might not be aware that he was the cause for Harry going to the same club, wanting human contact, looking for exactly this, with some random. Certainly from Harry’s point of view not even in his wildest dreams would he have thought he'd bring home the very one who has been driving him to do so many daily masturbations. Yet here they are. Louis hardly moving his hand clamped on Harry’s cock. This minimal effort still fuels Harry’s want for more.

“A little thank you?” Harry questions as he moves his pelvis ever so slight to cause Louis’ stationary hand to act as giving some additional friction in the absence of Louis doing more as he is waiting permission.

A wicked smile forms, “Well from the looks of things it might need be more than _a little_ thank you.”

It’s too cute how Louis’ face changes as he begins to wanks Harry’s length with a deliberately languid pace, sublime in how much pressure he uses or uses not. Where he squeezes, where he releases. Harry has done this for himself so much to abate his lust for contact with Louis that he has a good measure of how much unimaginably better this hand job is that Louis does compared to his own. This despite that Harry has no shortage of experience whether it it pleasuring himself of his previous lovers.

But Louis? Why is he like this?

Adding to a perfection so surreal that Harry questions if he is sleeping, and this is all a dream, is how Louis’ eyes have an expressive delight as Harry’s cock becomes its full length and girth because of him. Also, Harry Styles has a colossal cock.

“God, Harry, your cock is so...” Louis halts. Stone-cold shocked, impressed. This has Louis salivating, or so Harry surmises from how Louis licks his lips while his eyes stay fixed, focused on Harry’s cock. Harry is hopeful this could mean that Louis’ boyfriend, Niall, is not as endowed as he is.

Harry sweeps Louis’ hand off of him to bring it to his mouth so he can suck a finger releasing it wet as he says “It might be an illusion, given that your hand is so delicate, _smol_ was so tight...”

Harry's thoughts drift because the Louis tight-hand comment is an overlaying what he knows to be the treasure; Louis has a delicate, small, tight, most likely sweet hole. The meshing of these ideas has Harry’s knob beginning to bead pre-cum. Louis’ eyes widen again indicating even more of his delight. He bites his lower lip and holds it. Louis wants Harry's cock.

What comes out of Harry’s mouth almost unfathomable given how Harry wants to feel more of Louis but the question remains. “Louis what about your pig boyfriend?”

Louis sheds his gleeful expression. He hadn’t seemed too cognizant of their conversation earlier. Harry’s question is fair unless he wants to be entangled in a mess where he is a pawn to spice up Niall’s sex life. Test Louis’ devotion.

“I don’t understand. What are you asking?” Louis asks. His eyes leave Harry’s cock but his hand remains playing with its length ever so slightly.

“Is this fulfilling his plan? Who were you dreaming of while you were sleeping with me, pulling yourself tighter into me? Was it me or were you wanting to be wanted going back to him?”

Louis shakes his head. He looks troubled by Harry’s supposition. “No, no, no I can’t do that anymore.”

Louis doesn't wait for Harry’s acceptance of the suggestion that he is not returning to Niall. He uses two hands to grip onto Harry’s dick as he engulfs as much of the length as he can, humming a desperate sound like he was fearing Harry’s rejection.

If Harry feared he would come so quick with a mere hand-job his body, this leaves his brain in a muddled state with Louis taking to bobbing on the six inches, the most that Louis can manage to sink deep in his throat. With his throat he generates a vibration stimulating Harry’s cock as he whines, sucks like life depends on staving off Harry’ rejection of him.

Any chance of further worry about Louis returning to Niall is lost. Harry cups either side of Louis’ head with his hands, feeling the curvature of Louis’ small ears, Louis’ silky hair as Louis sloppily sucks. Occasionally Louis pops off and switches to using his tongue to caress the rim of Harry’s knob or dissect the slit with his skilled tongue. He also occasionally mumbles thoughts of how huge Harry’s cock is, how much he wants to taste Harry, that he wants to swallow. Following the last comment it takes but a few shallower bobs on Harry’s cock before Louis has Harry coming, toes curling, back arching as Harry screams. “Oh god, oh fuck, yes, ah, ah, ah...”

Louis has taken every drop bringing Harry’s pleasure to the point of pain before he comes off with a loud slurp. Louis’ normally paler pink lips are a brighter shade of berry red, wet as Louis wipes across them with the back of one hand while the other hand remains needfully on Harry’s spent cock.

“Louis, you look mighty pleased,”

What Harry said isn’t referring to Louis’ smile alone. He focuses more on the erection Louis has. Harry’s wish to see Louis when Louis is aroused is fulfilled, “...and gorgeous like this.”

Louis takes ahold of his own cock as he toys with Harry’s question.

“You, Harry Styles, everyone’s fantasy, think I am gorgeous? We both know that is an exaggeration, besides I thought you assumed me to be a slut?”

“I may have made a mistake.” Harry can’t resist asking for what he needs to see after having such an amazing blowjob. “Let me watch you wank yourself off for me? I wanna see you come. Untouched, touched only by yourself.”

Louis makes a sound that is part giggle and part squeal of delight. He parts his legs that are folded under himself where he sits on his heals between Harry’s long legs. Using only his own saliva as lube Louis slicks his cock liberally before he begins a show.

“Show” is the only way to describe it as “Louis” scrumptious thighs have the welcoming look so firm, parted like Nick wanted for the in studio photos. Louis’ pelvis he rocks like he would most likely do should he be riding cock as he wanks his pretty cock. The rocking pelvis, rolling hips, the small waist Harry wants to seize, but he has issued this request, this show, to be a touch-free performance. If he were to slip, to touch those hips, maybe his hands would accidentally slide around to fondle that ass. The challenge of self-restraint would be impossible. Fingers would have to go between the cheeks, part them. Feeling the heat there he would no doubt cave to desire to play with the tiny hole.

It seems Louis suspects Harry’s unspoken thoughts. He wets a finger. While one hand continues stroking his cock, the slicked finger begins hole-play, skin takes on more shimmering nuances with his perspiration. A flush of color intensifies signally that his wetted finger is teasing his entrance. Playing over it. Pressing to it.

Louis’ eyes are closed and his head list back, side-to-side. This emphasizes his perfect jawline, his cute lip-biting.

“You want more don’t you?” Harry asks with a sadistic tone. Harry’s enjoyment of watching Louis has gone to his dick.

With his eyes closed Louis hasn't seen his effect on Harry yet. He nods his head rapidly and Harry can only presume what he can’t see, that Louis is penetrating himself with a finger, doing what he can to reach his prostrate because his glistening skin takes on a deeper cast of red, he shivers ever so slightly.

“M’so close,” Louis mumbles with his knob bubbling pre-cum, his head nods a rapid “yes” to Harry’s question, “so close...”

The finger still impaled in himself, the cock pumping hand becomes chaotic in its rhythms, Harry wants Louis to come before the urge to touch him overwhelms his self-restraint.

“Then come for me,” Harry proposes. The proposal is met instantly.

Louis splatters Harry with his jizz as his luscious thighs make a series of quivers with each shot of an opaque rope of cum. His eyes Louis opens when the last of his cum is spent. Before him is a newly aroused, fully erect dick held in one of Harry’s hands. The smile on Harry’s face says more than words as he looks between the erection he holds, the mess Louis made of him and Louis’ eyes.

The first words from Louis’ mouth make Harry laugh.

“Apparently I didn’t thank you good enough!” Louis says letting go of his cock so he can join Harry in grasping Harry’s much heavier, meatier dick. “May I try again, take care of this for you...properly this time?”

The look on Louis’ face, the lick of his lips say he would rather to come forward and mount Harry. Harry is certain that he shouldn’t want Louis like he does. Everything is moving so fast.

“We didn’t really get around to the part of what you will do next, are you going to go back to him? Having filled his wishes to whore around and run back to your daddy? Maybe fucking cum left in this body of yours is his favorite kink.”

Louis trembles. The shiver that ran through his form Harry felt through the contact of Louis’ hand.

“I told you. I’m not playing that game anymore.” Sincerity in his voice. 

Harry accepts Louis intention is honest. He reaches for the bedside stand to open the drawer. Inside it is an array of condoms. 

“Have your pick.”

***

Louis is doing something to Harry that very few have ever done. When he selects a condom he doesn’t just roll in on and jump on Harry. Most of Harry’s experiences since Zayn have gone that way, like the one he is with can’t wait to have the fuck of their life with Harry Styles, the man of everyone’s dreams.

Louis however takes his time doing what lovers do when they want the act to last forever, to build up to something to be memorable.

He nuzzles Harry’s skin with a mix of lips, tongue and tiny breaths. He expands this teasing foreplay from Harry’s pelvis area to his neck moving with a painful slowness leaving his hand to hold the yearning erection while careful not to give it too much contact so Harry can sustain the second erection without coming again too soon.

Louis comments about Harry’s beauty come in near whispers. The breath when he speaks with lips ghosting over skin add to the goosebumps Harry has from the nuzzling, the softness, his delicateness. Everything in Louis' words and his pixie-light touches say that Harry is precious to him.

For the first time in a long, long time Harry isn’t sensing he is a play-thing or a commodity for his bragging rights but one who is truly cherished.

As Louis goes about doing this sensual roam over Harry’s body Harry’s attention is drawn to the ironic messages that mirror the two of them inked in their skin.

At one point Louis has left kissing the rose to use his tongue to tickle in the divot made by where pelvis and thigh join when Harry compelled to ask.; his rose, Louis’ dagger. With a hand that is playing in Louis’ feather-soft hair, “Louis why the dagger?”

Louis only makes a “harrumf” sort of noise. He has intentions to lap across one of Harry’s balls ending with an almost-mouth-feel of it as he sucks it to his mouth that lips don't part enough to engulf but the idea is planted in Harry’s senses.

Harry whines “this is all so good” grabbing Louis to pull him away from what Harry knows he can’t endure much longer if he is to have Louis stuff his cock in Louis’ sweet heat. Harry asserts.

“Seriously Louis, if not why the dagger then why this,” his fingers swipe across Louis’ collarbone framing tattoo, “‘It is what it is’, what does that mean?”

Louis moves from where he was, coming to sitting up straddling Harry. Louis leans down to him and kisses over Harry’s torso, attention given to each of Harry’s four nipples, his tongue tracing the outline of the focal torso tattoo.

The only words Louis offers when his bright blue eyes look up to Harry’s green are “it is what it is” which doesn’t seem like an answer of any sort. Harry is anticipating the question he has been asked a countless number of times whether the large tat is a butterfly or a moth?

The truth is the identity of the winged creature was less significant than the why. Harry had elected to get inked there because Zayn found his extra pair of rudimentary nipples a thing to cast doubt about his beauty. Even more ironic is when Harry came home proud of his new tat, seeking Zayn’s acceptance Zayn cast him out again. He was the first to puzzle over the choice, “What even is that? You look like an idiot!”

In the clouded memories that Harry tries to leave behind he thinks might have replied to Zayn’s uncomplimentary reaction with a comeback as vague as “It Is What It Is”.

Louis moves on with his slow, lover’s tenderness. Harry takes in more of Louis’ tattoos. He is about to ask more about the others with irony of Louis’ tats and his own mirroring each other when Louis stops the pleasure-torment. His cock rock hard too, he asks. “Face to face or wanna have me arse to you?”

How does one chose?

With Louis looking with such sincerity and earnestness Harry has his breath taken away like he is seeing Louis’ complete beauty for the first time.

Louis continues to pause, waiting with a remarkable patience and a quizzical expression. He bites his lower lip with his anticipation. Harry has to reach up and touch Louis’ face, putting an index finger on the side of Louis’ mouth like to say without words to release his lip from his bite as he says, “I’d like you to choose.”

Louis lifts himself up. His application of some lube quickly before rolling on the condom coming to sit over Harry’s knob such that the arc of it is pressed to his hole. He presses only enough to firm up the contact between them while maintaining Harry’s positioning more with the assist of one hand as he makes minute shifts of his pelvis. These tiny circular movement over the head of Harry’s cock torment Harry.

After a little of the teasing effect, Louis moves to force Harry’s cock to slide between his lube-slicked cheeks. Harry's length is made to feel the pressure of their fullness and while this sliding contact is stimulating, it must surely be minimal to the pressure on Harry’s cock should Louis elect to stuff it in himself.

Looking down at Harry with amusement, Louis lets Harry know his thinking. “I could do this all day, just the feeling of such a huge cock sliding back and forth between me cheeks is enough to make me come again. No need to ride this monster cock.”

“You wouldn’t.” Harry can’t fathom how being left waiting will be possible. Louis’ playfulness while fun is tortuous. An insignificant part of Harry wants to push him down, bring him to tears by ramming as much of his length in one powerful assault as he can stuff in this cock-tease’s body. Fuck him mercilessly like Liam did, stop this torment and take his release.

Then again. Harry can’t remember the last time sex was this fun.

He removes his hands from where they were enjoying stabilizing Louis’ firm thighs to switch to placing his arms over his head crossing them behind his head to suggest he’s up to the challenge despite knowing he is not.

“Go head then. Rut yourself on my cock. I like to watch.”

Louis smirks. He gets into a rhythm of doing this non-penetrative play. Painfully slowly he adds the two or three repetitions of bobbing his entrance on Harry’s knob.

Within a few times of doing this Harry gasps, “God you are such a good prick tease, aren’t you?”

Louis makes a pause with knob pressed its firmest to his entrance. “Mhm, makes me feel good to make ‘em loose control.”

The determination in Louis’ eyes was the signal that he too wanted more. Louis presses himself down on Harry only so far as to have the knob sunk nearly its entirety by the tight walls of Louis’ muscular rim. There were sensitivity is so great with the compression of his hole focused on Harry’s knob he resumes those little circular movements.

“Son of a fucking...” Harry murmurs. 

“Shhh, don’t talk about me mum like that.”

Harry stutters because he can’t stand what feels so good a second longer. As he stutters on his second attempt, becoming all too frustrated, he suddenly grabs Louis by each shoulder, “Sah-sah-sah-nnna,” shoving Louis down plunging his length deep in the body of the one tormenting him.

Louis might have winced, maybe softly protested but if he did either it was lost on Harry as he took Harry with a response of bending forward. His torso laying forward on Harry’s body Louis takes to kissing Harry with his tongue assaulting Harry’s mouth with as much fervor as Harry impaled his bum. It could be the change of angle spared him discomfort or it could be his passionate kiss expressed his delight. For certain, the kiss conveys a desire.

Harry goes with the idea Louis is okay and gives him followup strokes that are made smooth and slow. Louis’ hands are in his hair, his tugs gently.

Harry’s grabs on Louis’ bum. He places his fingertips where they feel his cock as he drives deeper in or slides further out. All the work is of Harry’s making under Louis. Any concern for whether his trusts are too demanding of his tiny lover is swept away how accepting Louis is. Hands in still in Harry’s hair, tongue in Harry’s mouth, whining like he can’t get enough of this.

Sensation of trembling thighs, Louis’ cock pressed between them pulsing cream precedes Louis breaking the kiss and moaning, “Oh yes, god Harry, s’good, god...”

Once the sensation of a spasming cock subsides Harry takes Louis by his ribcage under each arm and pushes him upright so he is once again sat straddling over Harry’s crotch looking down at the one who impales him. The spunk residue that is split between them looks so good on Louis as does the flushed coloration of his chest and face. With so much of Harry filling him the pressure on Louis’ prostrate must be intense, Harry having milked it and devilishly keeping Louis so sat.

“You be a good boy and give me that dick ride like you did at the start, ey? Come on Louis, I’ve watched you before,” Harry cuts himself off with his words becoming gasps and stuttered praises as Louis immediately moves to do Harry’s bidding. This has Harry coming loosing control of his senses as Harry once again clamps on Louis’ shoulders, cursing him for how good he feels and forcing Louis to have much more cock buried deep again.

Louis pants, his head lists before he sets his gaze back to meet Harry’s and nods rapidly, “S’its okay, m’okay, so fucking big cock...” Words are terminated when Harry pulls Louis down so once more they are chest to chest. This time Harry takes the more aggressive lead on their kiss. Harry would like to get the condom off, but not before he makes an impression with the kiss of how that most likely was the best single orgasm of his entire, quite fulfilling, sex life.

***

It was in the middle of the next round that Louis suddenly becomes alarmed about the time. It was well after 11AM and they were originally to be at Grimshaw’s by noon.

There is Louis, riding cock, facing away from Harry so the clock on the wall of Harry’s bedroom is in front of him when he realizes they will be late.

Harry should have mentioned the change of schedule but he forgot, distracted by the act of showering together after their earlier bout of sex, when he took the time to appreciate each little detail about Louis’ tiny, delicate features and their contrast to his round, plump-arse and strong thighs.

So as Harry is enjoying watching his posting shaft penetrating that arse with each twerk-like pump Louis makes, seeing in this position how much stretch is demanded of Louis’ body, while feeling sensations so astonishingly good Harry hasn't a clue why he hasn't come yet except that Louis has been having his way as a power bottom by perfecting the art of edging.

This control while bottoming is what almost makes Harry understand how Niall can get off on hearing about or watching another man with his boyfriend. A little twisted, yes, but in some minute way Harry can understand how intoxicating it could be to know at the end of each day this precious and rare power bottom is yours. Or, at least Harry can almost understand.

Swept up in the way with Louis not bothering to check his phone when they heard it chime signaling with incoming messages suggesting Louis will not respond to what most likely is a boyfriend trying to reach him. He actually, truly isn't going back. He is ready to move on. So moved by this and how well Louis fits Harry’s ideal in a lover that Harry kept forgetting to mention the change of schedule.

The time on the wall hitting Louis like a hammer he pulls off Harry. Harry’s fat cock falls with a wet, slap given its proportions require some support when engorged, hard or not. “Fuck Harry! The time! Fooking fuck!”

Louis is scrambling to get off the bed. His erection too, hard, posting without support because his cock is well proportioned for a proper twink and not a monster like Harry’s or say Liam, Zayn's.

Louis only has one foot on the floor before Harry grabs him. Pulls him back. Arms wrapping around Louis he takes Louis to the bed under him.

Louis gets agitated giving Harry resistance ahead of Harry explaining. “Harry, seriously, get off. You realize I didn’t just get a warning from Nick, he told me later if I made one more like a one more mistake I am out. You may not remember when you first modeled, undiscovered, in a competitive world but for me it's not the same as it is for you. I need this contract. I can't be late and I can’t show up in soiled clothing as I’m sure mine are...it would be disastrous.”

“Wait Louis, wait,” Harry gathers again Louis who has almost wiggled free from under him. It is surprising how strong Louis is for such a compact thing.

“No you wait Harry, you can’t still want me out so bad that you would make me late,”

A forceful, passionate kiss silences Louis. It takes a little while before determination yields to the lips and tongue of Harry Styles. A man whose mouth is arguably the most beautiful mouth ever to grace humanity. Once Louis is kissed to non-resistance Harry chances to explain.

“Louis it's okay, we aren't late. You haven't checked your phone, I get it, don’t want to receive his messages, but I got a message much earlier while you were sleeping. Nick decided to have a long weekend. Said he was so far ahead on his end of work enough that he said he wanted to slow down, not push his creativity and stifle it.”

Perplexed. Finally not wrestling to free himself, Louis says “He said stifle? Stifle what, like his creativity? Who even talks like that? Is that what he really said or are you making things up ‘cause I don’t,”

Another kiss once more stops the sassy mouth form its determined protest. Harry deepens the kiss until he gets the little exasperated exhale from Louis of yielding followed by Louis’ tongue meeting Harry’s own. They have this kiss going from intense, to softer to trailing off into some tiny kisses peppered around on each other's face and neck.

When Harry knows he has his lover calmed, a pair of erections wanning a little from all the tension but not beyond repair, Harry takes Louis gently to roll him face down. He hikes Louis hips a slight bit pushing thighs parted, “Now Louis Tomlinson soon to be the famous Louis Tomlinson, infamous Louis Tomlinson, may we begin again? I wanna fuck you so good you go into work on Monday with a waddle far more pronounced than that one you had not so long ago.”

Little did Harry know the words he spoke defining Louis as Famous, Infamous were soon to be the nails in the coffin sealing his fate to be far to hate by Louis to ever be loved like this again.

***

Louis stays on through most of the weekend. He never goes into details about his plans, merely shares that he is waiting for _“him”_ to leave _“theirs”_ before he returns home to gather some things. The implication is clear. Louis is leaving Niall. He will collect some belongings and seek residence elsewhere. So done with Louis with his demanding boyfriend that Louis never says even speaks the name “Niall”. Louis appears to be a person who was devoted enough to do anything asked of him up to a point. Once the demands were too much, walls come up and he is unreachable, resigned to move on.

Harry decides it is best not to dabble in conversation about them. Niall and Louis are the past. Besides, there is a completely different past, one where Harry felt his first love, that Harry wants to reveal. Harry makes all his queries as they get to know each other a little more his attempts to discover if Louis has any inklings of a memory of him from their youth. To nudge their conversations hoping to trigger Louis recalling the day at the pool Harry tries to keep conversation on first modeling jobs, their families, any shared interests that might lead to having Louis say something like “there was this one time at a pool, I was with my mates, me sisters cheering us and I met this lad. He was the only one I ever met with eyes as green as yours.” This recall Harry wishes for doesn’t come.

That disappointment is minor given that the sex is truly a synchroneity of pure shared bliss unlike Harry has experienced before. Their passion being so frequent that it was only on Sunday when Harry finally has washed Louis’ soiled clothes that Louis is motivated to separate from their little home-stay holiday.

Harry almost regrets giving Louis back his clean, neatly folded clothing. For the bulk of their time Louis was naked, or as Harry also enjoyed very much, Louis was wearing one of Harry’s white silk shirts and nothing else. Sleeves rolled up, a few buttons mismatched in pairing, Harry’s shirts on Louis were long enough to just, just cover his bum and his junk, leaving Louis’ thick, firm thighs exposed. Their color so honey-rich. Those succulent thighs begging for Harry to do what he could know that Nick could have no rightful objection to because Louis would be in pants or trousers covering where Harry left his marks.

On the off chance Louis was wrong about resolving to leave Niall, Harry intends to have Louis leave his walking with that “I-was-very-well-fucked waddle”.

One added insurance that this tenuous new thing between him and Louis brings Louis back to him was to litter Louis’ thighs, pelvis hips with brands of another lover’s claim.

Fifteen minutes after Louis finally, reluctantly, leaves his, Harry’s phone begins to receive messages. Photos in text, some plain text messages, so many messages all coming in rapid succession implying urgency.

This elates Harry. It has to be Louis. Louis must have left and immediately needed to be back with him! He texts Harry to profess his love, his hunger. Or maybe Louis remembered, finally, organically, their first meeting because in one script of text the first few words that roll across the screen say “I remember you....”

Harry’s heart leaps with the thrill...

...he continues on to open the image text first. Maybe like Harry, Louis chronicled in a diary an image of Harry he's always kept!

No.

Louis has sent him the Saturday publication of the Daily Mail. It is the cover story with much of the cover picture blurred out. No mistake, however, that Louis is in the photo. His partner, Liam, is unidentifiable. There is an inset of a stock photo from Louis agency that shows Louis' face and the identical match of the details of the scandalous photo that tell enough of a story. The headline, “Designer Nick Grimshaw has a new star? Star Model or Porn Star?”

The secondary headline says “Did Louis Tomlinson sleep his way to the top?”

The text message from Louis in its entirety?

“I remember you...” Louis continues on to write, “told me you had a thumb drive with a download from Liam’s camera. So I see you weren’t kidding. And shared it with the entire world! Thank you very much you ass-twat for sending that to the Daily Mail. Did you do that the second you had it or did you wait until you could first fuck me literally to make the point!”


	8. Until now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A world of gratitude to Zhong_truly who turned a Beta chapter process into a full co-write!  
> Love to you!

Zayn doesn’t feel good about the argument they had.

Louis was right.

He was wrong.

Zayn asks himself why, then, is he always such a wanker?

Reluctantly, Zayn concludes that his jealousy triggered the fight with Louis. What makes it worse is how he has conjured this envious out of thin air. Although, his master plan is rendering it impossible for Harry to like Louis; the infatuation and care that Louis regards to Harry is rather annoying.

Louis will come home from work and ramble on about wishing Harry would try just a little to be friends. The problem is how these occasional mentions about wanting Harry’s acceptance suggests that Louis might hope for something more than friends. Maybe even friends with benefits…

Besides.

Zayn is no buffoon, and it is odd how Louis had been getting tattoos that mirror those on Harry Styles. The rose and the dagger. The whateverthefuck the moth thing is and his “ _it is what it is_ ” script. Harry’s anchor and Louis’ rope. Then there is the ship and the compass...

The entire situation has gotten out of hand and is no longer within his control. He dangled Louis out there for Harry to want. He made Louis play these games where Louis is sexual with friends, Liam and Niall. This was supposed to make Louis look simultaneously desirable but immoral, which Zayn knows Harry won’t like. Harry was always such a stickler for the committed, fated lover sappy fluff. Like meeting someone as a child and falling in love forever. An eternity- like the eternity knot on Louis’ wrist.

Over dinner, a lover’s quarrel erupted. Louis kept containing smiles and the blush upon his face whenever Harry would come up in conversation. His shyness protected him from his boyfriend's scrutinizing gaze. It started casual enough, "he must help you a lot," Zayn murmured, observing the man across him. "What with his experience and all."

Such bait and Louis falls for it. He does not seem to register the nature of the energy in the room, so he simply nodded and settled with, "he's coming around." As Zayn pressured Louis more, the rose-flushed deepened- as well as his defensiveness. One snide comment about how pointless it would be to try and impress Harry, if he was disinterested, sufficiently quieted Louis. Disappointed by Zayn's discouragement, he slowly continued to eat the meek pasta meal prepared for the evening. Louis had fallen for Harry’s perfection.

"Unless," the provoking continued, "unless you care about Harry's approval or something." He nibbled on a bit of salad, but his eyes remained on his partner.

Louis had made a point to say their interactions were friendly; he was aware of Zayn's underlining jealousy. He's pushing him to reveal a confession. 

In the heat of the moment, nothing Louis said would be convincing, although he tries to just end the argument before it begins. His efforts were hurriedly interrupted, "I don't want to believe you are being unfaithful, because I assume that we were on the same page. Let me reiterate, to be clear, if anyone's going to fuck you while we're together, it is on my terms. If you are tempted to open your legs for Styles, I need you to be honest with me."

In between a sentence, Louis' mouth had been agape, however, his shock disabled him to allow his jaw to unhinge. Zayn wanted a challenge. Louis did not. Slowly he rose from his seat, sat his unfinished food on the coffee table, and maintained contact. With no delay, he made his way across the room, reached for his coat, and exited their flat.

.... 

By midnight, Zayn's calls to Louis' phone remained untouched.

Voicemails left alone on Thursday night.

By mid-morning Friday, Zayn calls Liam. He hoped Louis and Liam would be at work together and Liam could persuade Louis to take his call. Zayn suspected Louis may have also spent time at Liam’s. Zayn would ignore that and apologize.

Liam informs Zayn that they aren’t at the studio when he finally gets back to his phone. Unexpectedly, Nick has given everyone the day off, and no. It seems Louis did not spend the night at his. Zayn calls Niall.

"- I'm in Scotland and golfing, so stop hitting up my phone! I heard your voicemail; the last time I saw Louis was during our hookup at your behest. Cheers, mate. I hope you find him!" The line went dead before Zayn could follow up with questions.

Not sure who to call next, a knock at the door interrupted him in his panic. Zayn assumes Louis has returned and forgot his keys perhaps. With an apology ready, Zayn runs to the door, flinging it open.

“Greg?”

Of course, Zayn is familiar with Greg James. Experienced first hand his second fiddle career, living in Liam's shadow. He has come alone; being ignored entirely because Zayn looks past him to see if Louis has brought him up.

Greg has an awkwardness about him like he knows this is a bad time or that he shouldn't be there in the first place. He draws the attention back to himself, “Morning Zayn, too early for me to drop by?”

It is 10AM. Not too early, but oddly enough, Greg's not even watching for a reaction, taking in the living room setting, visible from the entrance. He notices Zayn's distraction and hurries past him into the hallway of the residence.

" _He _isn’t here is he?”__

Zayn reaches this conclusion himself, as he faces the intruder with dismay. Closing the door behind Greg, Zayn adds, “Louis? No. Never came home last night.”

“Oh. I see.”

Zayn waits expectantly for him to leave, but Greg shuffles his feet and exhale. He seems to be searching for the right words. “I know there have recently been some unusual circumstances with the two of you,” Greg starts to say. A long pause is accompanied by Greg delaying further information to raise the dramatic subject matter.

“...One day," he began, leaning against the closest wall, getting comfortable, "after work, Louis and I spoke for an hour or so. He wanted to catch Harry leaving to settle something with him, probably tension. I went on my way.”

“And?” Zayn actually questions the reason Greg decided to lug himself over here to disclose such a pointless event. He hopes for his sake, that there is more.

“And well, I hate to confess, but I did pressure Louis.”

“Pressure him?” Zayn is focusing now, albeit he is still confused.

“Yes, not my best moment but I made a pass him, nothing happened. if that is what you want to know. He made it quite clear he is in a relationship with you, he loves you, it’s all about you...”

Zayn lights a cigarette. With Greg’s arrival, and Louis' departure, not calling him back, this visit has Zayn worried.

In the past, Louis had called Zayn after being set up with men, and talked Zayn through the details of what happened. Whether he fucked out someone else’s cream pie or ate it out, this was an aphrodisiac for Zayn. This time, however, it is not as it had been before. Louis was not going to whom Zayn assigned him and nor calling him. These differences are entirely too disturbing.

Greg coughs out a little sheepishly pathetic admission. “I shot my shot because I know you have been sharing Louis around, so to speak. With Liam, Niall ...”

Zayn cuts him off. “You’re making a pretty big leap Greg to assume I would ‘share Louis around’. If you think about what you said, how you pressured him, he refused. Just because Louis went to the Met with Niall did not mean they did anything else after. Niall simply needed a date, to softly announce that he likes lads. Louis has always wanted to attend, so that is all it was.”

Greg was too smug to address that previous statement.

“Oh really, then you have knowledge of this,” Greg extends his hand holding a thumb drive. “I took this off Liam’s computer as he had it linked to his camera after work one night. Louis and Liam together in the studio. Louis bent over, while Nick was still working, enjoying the show. Your little boyfriend filmed taking cock like a champ. And incidentally, I shared pints at a pub with Niall the day after the Met. We discussed your boyfriend. Niall wasn't offering details, but let's just say he blushed when I shared what I’d like to do with Louis.”

Zayn snatches the device from Greg, who continues his story, “and then last night I was at that club you like so much. Louis was there. I was watching Louis from afar, as he was in a sea of ripped, fit men, drinking, dancing, hands all over Louis, and who do you think comes in? I know you and Harry had some history.. Quite frankly, when I saw Harry and Louis leaving the club together," he raises both hands up above his shoulders and shakes his head like he is being accused, "I was more than a little shocked. Are you toying with your mates, dangling Louis to mess with them?”

“Get out!” Zayn yells. Now, with the thumb drive in his possession and the real reason for Greg's visit exposed, he has heard enough.

“What?”

Zayn tries to shove a significantly taller Greg James through the door, and he fails.

“You wanna know why I am here? I don’t give a fuck who's doing Louis if it is his choice. I don’t. However, I genuinely like him," they both pause and allow that to sit in the room, "I don’t understand why you set Louis up like this. What is your endgame? That hour we spent talking in my car, it was very clear that I wasn’t talking to some slut. I was talking to someone who is lovely and sweet. Hell, he doesn't even know the motive for your request.”

Greg’s is seething, as he attempts to calm down, Zayn shoves him by the shoulder, in a ditch effort to remove him from his home. The door is quickly shut and locked.

Turning around to face his empty flat, he has a lot to think about. A few hours later, still no response from Louis, Zayn regrets his impulsive actions. It is too late to undo what he has done.

The identifying script at the bottom of the video will confirm that is was shot at the studio of designer Nick Grimshaw. He leaked it and now he'll wait. Louis should turn up eventually.

***

On Sunday morning, Zayn had packed for a short trip to Milan for a photoshoot. A call from Nick Grimshaw disclosed that he is interested in adding Zayn to the business again. He was also retracting his contract with Louis Tomlinson.

The proposal bothered him while he was away, and once he was back in London, he heads straight to Grimshaw’s studios. Nick is offering a sizable bonus for Zayn to re-sign as a face for his collections.

Zayn’s agent had told him that the only issue in the situation was working with his ex, but he was promptly told to get over it if that hinders him.

He has endangered Louis’ career, and he had such a one-track mind at the time that all other participants were irrelevant, “What about Louis? Has he been informed?”

“You know he is handled by someone else in the firm, he is not my problem. I am sure when Louis is reached it will be a disappointment to him, a rather severe setback. Ashamed to admit it, but there is a fine line between exposure and too much exposure. We don’t handle porn stars at this firm. I don’t know if the agency will risk representing Louis in the future.”

***

Harry arrives early on Monday morning.

Entering the corridor, he hears talking in Nick’s office.

He concentrates on listening to pick up Louis' voice. He has missed the brunette and should speak to him after all that has happened.

“Harry?” Nick hollers, seeing Harry first, and interrupting Liam.

For the first time ever, they both are sitting at the desk, which typically is used to hold up Liam's equipment, and dressed nicely. Harry feels like he has walked into a meeting, “Nick," he stops at the door, "Liam, what’s going on? Why do you look so serious?”

“Have you been in some cave all weekend? You haven't seen what was plastered all over the Daily Mail? Louis Tomlinson’s arse. They blurred out what they needed to and left what was required to imply I’m dicking my model and he has me wrapped around his little finger.” Nick has rotated his seat to deliver Harry the news.

Harry knew of this and has tried to contact Louis, to no avail. Nick is displeased about the scandal for the company, but Liam is less terse. It was his camera after all that was left on as he plundered Louis.

“We were just discussing how what was on my computer got from point A to point B. That, and who is replacing Louis. Which is the lesser of evils in your point of view one might ask.” Liam fills Harry in on decisions. 

“Replacing Louis? You can’t be serious? You can’t replace him. Wasn’t he the perfect muse to the other side of the collection? He is so...” There's a softness in Harry’s tone that hasn’t been a part of his attitude previously when it comes to Louis. 

Nick and Liam stare at Harry like they are struck by the notable change from Harry’s attitude of Thursday and today. “I mean,” Harry says trying not to give his emotions away, “...Louis is so perfect for the look of the pieces that he models. There isn’t anyone else who can pull it off. He's just right. Right? Isn’t that what you are going for? I don't think he should be replaced and I think I could work fine with him going forward. I think I wasn’t giving him a chance.”

There. He said it.

Harry admits he is a little too comfortable being the star, royalty, the most famous model. Before he had a lover’s weekend he was conflicted by his innate attraction to Louis and his resentment of Louis for taking any of the limelight. That was also before he understood Louis was acting more promiscuous to please his boyfriend. A boyfriend whose fetish cost Louis his job.

Harry finally had Louis back in his grasp.

Until now.

Now Louis thinks Harry sabotaged him. Louis isn't here and has vanished, which makes Harry most concerned for his wellbeing.

Nick is reflective for a moment. He glances at Liam, but not a word is said.

“I appreciate your willingness to work with Louis, but what's done is done," he moves around the desk to get closer to Harry, "There is too much risk. This new collection is meant to be provocative and fantasy. Not cheap or pornographic." Harry feels shot down.

“We will have a new model pairing on Thursday. I am having the seamstresses collect the completed pieces and take in the trousers since the new model doesn't have the same voluptuous arse, of full thighs. But you should know that better than anyone, Harry.”

Harry shakes his head, "Not sure what you are talking about, why would I know better?”

Liam faces away from him then, his shoulders sag as the corners of his mouth twitch down in sympathy.

Nick explains. “I am bringing back Zayn. I know it didn’t end well between you two, but maybe the dynamics of your former romantic past can play nicely on set. Besides, the love triangle should definitely stimulate interaction."

Harry has to ask, “Triangle?” Harry looks from Nick to Liam and back again.

“You can’t be serious? How much time do you spend in that cave, Harry? You really don’t know what is going on? You aren’t aware who Zayn was dating after your breakup with him?”

Harry had not preoccupied himself when they separated; he worked on becoming better.

“Harry, I thought that was why you were so cold with Louis at the start. Zayn and Louis have been together since shortly after you split. Zayn helped Louis get discovered. In fact, I met Louis while he was in the middle of a date with Zayn. Louis had been around, modeling, not in the right circles until he got more attention by being seen with Zayn. I was late, but I jumped on the opportunity to sign Louis exclusively before anyone else exposed him. Meaning exposed him professionally not this other ‘exposure’. However, with that Daily Mail thing, Louis is sacked, Zayn is in.”


	9. Bottom

Word around the industry is that Louis is unmarketable. He’s done. Everyone acts as if they weren’t on good terms with Louis just a week ago, and Harry figures that Louis must be okay with Zayn’s new position. The returned model is dressed and ready to go, to act as replacement in the shoot, when Harry arrives at the studio Tuesday morning. 

Personally, Harry disfavors the situation, since this is his ex and the man who currently stands in the way of Louis’ availability. Although, there has not been any communication between the two. He tried to make amends and left messages upon messages. After about ten, he received one from Louis. 

“ _ Fuck off asshat. Tired of deleting you constantly. Blocked now.” _

It appears Harry will have to try a new approach to reach Louis.

Harry waits outside the studio. Zayn will be there. Harry is contemplating what potential energy between he and Zayn. Oh, how Harry wishes he could pretend that all is well on this particular London day, but even if they were cordial, there has been some tension in the work setting, since Nick let slip that the blame for the leaked images has been placed on Harry.

When confronted yesterday, Harry insisted it wasn’t him. He admitted he saw Liam and Louis in the studio with Nick, but he claimed it was Greg James who downloaded a copy off Liam’s computer. Conveniently, James could not be reached because he was in Milan, saving a photoshoot jeopardized by internal staff problems at the acclaimed fashion magazine Quora. Such a lucrative opportunity would entice anyone that had been doing nothing for months, and perhaps even indefinitely, should James make the choice to leave. At this time, Nick chose Harry’s career over Louis’ and stuck with it. 

Louis’ reputation had taken the biggest hit, but despite the years of friendship and all evidence to suggest Harry was not a person so devious, a change has occurred in Harry’s relationships with Nick and Liam.

The three men halt all conversation and watch as Harry sets down his belongings near the closest wall within the room. He has a feeling that they had not discussed business before he came in.

“Harry,” Nick began pleasantly enough, “You’re right on time! I asked Zayn to come in as early as he could, given he was on a late flight last night. I simply needed to have a little chat with him before we got started. Wanted to find out how Louis is doing.”

Somehow everything feels different today. Nick is glancing between the exes, probably waiting for a bomb to drop. Harry travels the short distance to be next to the group, and tries to delay regarding Zayn as long as possible. Liam gives Harry a mixed-look. 

“I  _ would _ like to know, how is Louis doing?”

Harry’s shared interest was directed toward Nick, but Zayn squared his body to block his sight. He has never intimidated Harry, but he sure had the energy. Fired up for whatever reason, he shoved closer as Harry suspiciously eyed him, “You’ve got some nerve!”

Liam threw his hand forward to pull Zayn’s shoulder. He shook his head, sufficiently establishing the mode and professionalism that was still expected of everyone involved.

“I swear I had nothing to do with that leak to the Daily Mail.” Harry states defensively.

Staying restrained by Liam is all that keeps them parted as Zayn bitterly chastises Harry.

”You swear? _You?_ So it’s your word against Louis? He said you said something about some thumbdrive, like a threat or something! What good is your word anyway Harry? I seem to recall that you once told me that you’d be with me _forever_. Time and words are fuzzy in their meanings for Harry Styles aren’t they! And like Louis was struggling with last night when I found him, an emotional wreck, the question is did you send that to the press the very first minute that you had him at yours or did you wait an entire twenty-four hours so you could fuck him senseless?”

Zayn’s bitterness, bringing in their past, obliterates Harry’s ability to think. The inflamed situation has Nick stepping in. Similar to how Liam moves Zayn off one direction in the studio, Nick moves Harry in another.

“Okay you two, tensions are high, I understand that. You both need to decide if you can put aside differences and work together. I have got to get the attention off Louis’ arse and onto my collection. What better way than to imply that a once former dream couple are recoupled, fated lovers. Can you both please try to channel that hate you feel for each other into what looks like passion, lust?”

Distance set between them such that Nick thinks it is safe to release Harry he does so. Examining Zayn in Louis-inspired, collarbone-exposing cut-out top, clearly Nick gets what is blatantly obvious about the look.

Seamstresses tailoring to it has done nothing to make the garment work on a persona like Zayn. It fits Zayn, sure, but it doesn’t look anything close to right on him. If anything, it looks ridiculous.

It was made for a twink. Looking Zayn over the reality of this dawns on Nick. Nick throws his hands to his head, pulling on his hair. He bends over gasping for dramatic effect then stands up hands still pulling his hair and shares what he thinks of Zayn in the design.

“Now that is the most ridiculous thing I have ever seen. Utterly laughable. I’ve got a bad-boy punk in a delicate-twink jumper. It is worse than the worst of bad drag queen costuming.”

Nick walks away still sharing his thoughts.

“Zayn, get out of that please before my eyes bleed it is so painful to look at. And no, it’s not you, it’s my design. It is so clear you can't substitute for modeling a Louis-look, simply for the same reason I’m sure you and Harry couldn't work your relationship out. Your both are too ...top, big cock, play the jock, don't have the right fit for that look. Louis, we all know Louis is not a ‘s u b’ persé, Louis is just so playful, sweet and screams out that he is naughty bottom. The entire Louis-side of my collection has to be eliminated. That’s it, I am scratching all the designs for him and going with a more expected, albeit boring, bad-boy from Bradford side to the collection to play off of Harry’s looks. It will be a let-down, sure, but if the two of you can at least try to play up rekindled lovers maybe at least the press might talk about something fashion-relevant rather than the persuasiveness of Louis Tomlinson’s ass.”

Nick has to add on final thought. “Good luck Zayn with your twink boyfriend when he gets wind of this new marketing campaign. You won’t be able to hide it. If you think he was crushed by being released after the exposé he will be really off the rails about the new marketing direction. Fake relationships are always subversively destructive. Hopefully you can keep him stable by fucking him into bliss about it.”

***

All the attention on Louis’ arse spawned by the Daily Mail has kept Louis in a constant state of emotional turmoil. Meanwhile Nick was working as rapidly as he could to execute a massive change to the collection. His Zayn-inspired pieces are fabulous, interesting, to be sure. Likely they will be very well-received. They are still not as cutting edge as what he had with Louis as his muse. The manner in which Nick diligently pushed himself with long hours, never a day off, his seamstresses working overtime hints to the possibility that Nick has some serious regret for abandoning his collection, Louis too.

Making it worse is how in the few weeks since Louis was released from his contract, Zayn back with Grimshaw, there have been running jokes circulating. The jokes are the same; the name Louis Tomlinson and any words synonymous with “bottom” are in the punchline. Louis has become a meme. Even James Corden went with consecutive days of subtle bottom-Louis-jokes on his show.

Nick is fast to push publicly a narrative linking Zayn and Harry as an on-again couple which is why Zayn is doing his best to make Louis as fulfilled as possible before he broaches the subject with his emotionally eviscerated lover. Zayn was just between Louis' legs. Licking into him, fingering him open, eating out Louis’ sensitized rim until Louis orgasmed on Zayn’s embedded tongue from being made to feel so good.

Zayn hopes Louis is pliant enough, slightly satiated as he tells Louis what Nick decided to do to spin attention off the idea that Louis slept his way into Nick’s favor by implying the dream couple of Malik and Styles are together again for House Grimshaw. The “Myles” idea is not one without merit; people love a good Ross and Rachel story.

Naturally Louis doesn't like the news. “He asked you to do what?”

Zayn hasn't any clue how he is slipping so much deeper into betrayal that he would agree to Nick’s marketing plan. He hopes good dicking is gonna get Louis by. For now. For now because on his way home after a challenging day being with Harry, playing nice after a rough start, Zayn stopped at a jewelry store. He bought Louis a ring. First sign Louis is not too raw, too volatile, Zayn will propose to him.

He takes his time answering Louis by kissing slowly up from bum, “I know”, “how bad”, “that sounds”. Interrupting his kisses to reposition, taking his cock in hand, sliding it in a slicked ass-crack. Zayn continues, “not happy about it in the slightest.” He stops the stroking action between the full, flushed cheeks to begin bobbing his knob against Louis’ entrance. “But maybe with me close to Harry, I can do some damage to his image.”

Louis is silent. Is he processing the implication or bracing for a push through his rim that is gonna be still tight. Zayn likes the way Louis gets taking cock if he is prepped only so much as to not be hurt but is still one tight little thing.

With a marked sadness to his tone Louis says, “Please just get to fucking me, I want him out of my head. I hate him.”

Zayn's knob clenched by the musculature of Louis’ rim sends an impulse to his brain almost too intense to resist coming while barely sunk. Zayn likes how after Louis has come once without being dicked, he can be pounded a good long while before he will come again. Zayn wants this to go long and slow. Given that Harry was the last one to be in Louis the pressure is on to do as Louis asked; get the memory of the feel of Harry’s huge cock pounded from Louis’ imagination. Bury all thoughts of Harry forever with each deep trust burying cock deep in Louis’ fine arse.

Zayn begins with the slowest of trusts. Slow, and working each consecutive one a little deeper than the one before it. Louis is unusually quiet. Normally he is loud, mouthy, like he needs something in his mouth to make him shut up.

“You like this baby?”

“Um hum,” Louis mumbles into the bed under him.

Zayn takes a full handful of Louis’ hair and pulls. “Bring your knees under you, come on.”

Louis does as he’s told. His quiet compliance is uncharacteristic, eerily so. Zayn continues to hold Louis’ hair, making Louis get into a rhythm set by him as he roughly tugs Louis’ hair. With each penetration Zayn pulls Louis’ head back. This forces Louis to undulate, his back dipping, curving while his pelvis tilts to take Zayn’s cock. Louis remains oddly quiet through all of this even as Zayn goes deeper with each trust.

“Come on, bae, talk to me, tell me how good you feel. I know I’m nailing your sweet spot, talk to me.”

“Ha-ha- huuurt me.” Louis gasps out like this is the thought he has been holding in. “Hurt me, hit me.”

Zayn shifts to impaling Louis with more rigorous, deeper thrusts. He lets go of Louis’ hair to grasp each hip with his hands to keep Louis stable as the intensified pace puts a strain on Louis keeping himself in place.

“Never gonna hurt you bae...” Zayn feels a frenzied need to bring Louis along as his orgasm is impending.

“Hit me! I should be punished!” Louis gasps as he is getting pounded.

More need building from in his core fuels Zayn’ pace even faster. “No bae, gonna take care of you, you’re so good, so-so good.”

No sooner is this said than Louis pushes himself upright coming to a knee stand his back pressed to Zayn’s chest. He takes Zayn’s hands in his to put them at his neck, “Go on choke me, hit me,” Louis pleads.

Zayn has to muzzle Louis because he can’t speak as he feels himself spilling his seed. Zayn's cock maintained pressed deep, pressure on Louis is such that Louis’ body begins pulsing clenches signifying his orgasm and igniting an extension in Zayn’s orgasm.

***

Zayn makes love to Louis two more times during the night. Each time a singular thing is the same; Louis is eerily quieter than normal. He always asks to be hit. Punished. Chocked. Hurt in any fashion. After each time they make love Louis doesn’t have an answer to Zayn’s queries about these strange, disturbing, new requests. One time Louis even tried to provoke Zayn by verbally lashing out followed with striking Zayn. Zayn didn’t respond in kind. He restrained Louis, finished dumping his seed deep in him before releasing Louis, comforting Louis with some cuddling as Louis silently cried himself to sleep.

Louis isn’t the same anymore. Zayn is the cause. He wants to put that ring on Louis’ finger but not while Louis is like this.

***

Saturday morning as Louis sleeps in Zayn goes to the kitchen to start some water for tea. He wants to bring Louis a cuppa in bed and be out of hearing range to call Liam while Louis sleeps.

Louis’ phone is on their kitchen table. He checks its activity. The last text was in a string of messages between Louis and Jay. Louis informs her he won't go to a charity event he had been planning to do with her this evening as to not drag his family into the public eye given how everyone is focused on the scandal.

Of his decision Jay wrote, “Would have loved to have you with me at the event but I understand. Remember that we love you and want to see you. Please come home to Doncaster for a while. Worried, you don’t sound like yourself darling.”

Reading that with an acid pooling in his stomach he calls Liam. It’s a relief when Liam answers the call immediately particularly since Liam usually does extra long workouts on Saturday mornings and doesn't have his phone on him.

“Zayn, how’s it going, how is Louis?”

“Not good, not good at all. He is a massive wreck.”

“Understandable, lost his dignity and his big modeling chance all at once. How did he take that spin Nick wants to do?”

“Terribly, after that he got really weird, kept telling me to hit him, or choke him. He even hit me to provoke me.”

“Really? What did you do? You didn’t hit him back did you?”

“We were fucking at the time so I pinned him, finished, held him tight after. He’s devastated. I think I’m gonna need help with him. I don’t like this behavior, his thing of wanting to be punished.”

“I’m there with you for anything. I do have some responsibility for the leak. I didn’t realize I had clicked the camera into video mode. If I had done my job right rather than get caught up in that role play you wanted us to do Louis wouldn’t be in this situation. Do you think it would help if I made some public statement? I mean, if people knew that it wasn't Nick with Louis but me, maybe suggest we are a couple, it wouldn’t fuel the idea Louis was whoring his way into Nick’s favor. Nick could give him another chance. If Katy Perry can be sunbathing in a canoe while Orlando Bloom stands paddling it with his dick proudly out, what’s the outrage about Louis with his partner?”

“I don’t know about that Liam. I worry that could only make things worse because Louis was just at the Met with Niall, he’s been at many publicity things with me, so I don’t know about that. It’s possible he will look sluttier, a player, sex-grifter. Ever since the exposé the older pictures of me and him together that never were circulated are now getting attention. You know, before this when me and him were photographed together they tended to crop Louis out of the photos they ran, ‘cause he was a no-one...”

From behind Zayn, a fragile voice repeats, “Who is a no-one?”

A chill runs through Zayn’s veins. He turns. There stands Louis. His bed-head hair, his well-fucked softness, and his eyes that look hallowed with the pain of what he heard.

Zayn drops his phone and rushes to Louis but as he does Louis steps back and upon their meeting Louis proceeds to unleash a fury of pain by lashing out at Zayn. He generates curse words in combinations Zayn has never heard and struggles to try to strike Zayn. Zayn tries to ward off the blows by wrapping him in arms. Louis is very much more the athlete than Zayn so he takes Zayn down with an undercut of his feet but once they are on the floor Zayn rolls with Louis. He manages to get Louis under him. On top of Louis Zayn has to nearly exhaust himself to fully pin Louis. Louis breaking down is the cause of Zayn’s advantage because Louis abandons his aggression and curses for sobbing.

“Louis, Louis, listen to me, please. That wasn’t what you think.”

Louis lets Zayn keep him pinned. He looks to have no fight in him as Louis objects, “A ‘no-one’, you were talking about me, being a no-one, just a nice arse, a no-one of any value, I heard that.”

Zayn takes advantage of Louis’ lack of resistance to kiss him. Having Louis under him, somewhat exhausted from their struggle, and the emotions overwhelming him, Louis lets Zayn kiss him. Long and softly, Zayn begins the first kiss aware that Louis’ heart is racing. The rapid beating reminds him of a frightened bird when it is captured. As Louis calms, Zayn whispers his thoughts placed between kisses going from lips to neck, to lips, to cheeks, and down again.

“ You missed the part where I said before the thing with Grimshaw you were relatively unknown, that’s all I meant," he stares down at Louis to gauge his reactions.  “Liam and I were talking ‘bout how to fix this."

Louis finally comes back with a response, his rage flares, “Because fucking Harry Styles wanted to destroy me! I had to call my mum and cancel going with her tonight so as not to drag my family into this nightmare! Why would he do that? How much adoration does fucking Styles need? He is a total wanker of epic proportions...”

Zayn makes Louis pause his rage by kissing him deep and passionately. After their kiss, Zayn tells Louis the truth.

Not the pressing truth, but a rather easier one.

“Louis, I love you. You are perfect. He is a wanker. The world will realize that someday. Who he is will reveal itself; selfish, deceitful, primadonna. Manipulator of facts. Keep in this beautiful head of yours the way I see you. Sweet, perfect, gorgeous, playful, kind. Trusting.”

Louis is trusting. He believes in Zayn. Zayn gets off of him, pulls him from the floor, and takes Louis to bed for a little more pleasure before tea.

Louis also has faith in Zayn when Zayn calls Liam back to ask Liam to come by theirs later so that two lovers might be better than one. Louis trusts Zayn explicitly.


	10. It takes three

A post threesome laziness slur breaks the silence as Niall asks, “S’have you decided how to propose?”

He and Zayn are sitting in the living room of Zayn’s flat, watching a recording of a football game neither cares about. Tired, they are chilling, having some beer. Zayn smokes. Niall eats crisps.

Each only wearing pairs of briefs they pulled on when leaving Louis to sleep in the bedroom. Louis, the center of their threesome, was finally exhausted after several hours of concerted efforts to satiate him.

Ever since Zayn’s impulsive Daily Mail mistake Zayn is literally challenged to fuck the memory of Harry Styles’ huge cock from Louis’ mind. Distracting him from the bottom-Louis jokes, suppress the growing buzz around the restored (be it fake or not) Myles Dream Team rekindled in House Grimshaw, frequently requires Zayn enlisting assistance.

Despite best efforts, Louis always goes to this dark, moody place alien to his previous nature. The loss of his dignity and career leaving Louis created a lingeringly bizarre aftereffect on Louis. He won’t stop asking to be punished like that will purge the despair he has become lost in.

“Not really. It is still hard to have a romantic plan when he keeps getting into the mindset of wanting me to hurt him. That’s the concern if Louis insists Liam join us. I know Louis’ motive, as sweet as Liam is, Louis can always get him spun up if Louis plays Liam just right. You know how it is Niall, Louis is a master of powerbottoming, edging until his top breaks.” 

Niall nods. “It is hard for me too to ignore him Louis when he is sassing and talking so slutty riding dick just so. I mean, like earlier he wasn’t having it with us trading him off, no way was he going to be denied having us both filling him with dick. Liam doesn’t come close hurting Louis though, does he?”

“No, of course not! He has enough restraint to stop shy of that. He’d obviously love to do Louis like me and you do, but even after several rounds working Louis loose, Liam is just too big for us both. And Louis...Louis thinks he's so big, tuff, but the only thing big is about Louis is his bum and his heart.”

Niall scoffs, jokingly counters pretending to be incredulaous, “Mate, did you just imply that my dick is too small to do harm! Tiny me is nothing to worry about?”

“No Niall, we know that’s not true, you understand what I’m saying. You are a very patient lover and your extremely gentle about things. Like earlier, how you let Louis adjust to just you in him, and when I joined in you weren’t rushed, despite his begging to be punished.” 

Still, jokingly Niall adds, “Oh so what you are saying is that I am good at just laying there under him, balls-deep while you do all the work.”

“Seriously Niall, I mean compared to Liam, you’re perfect if Louis insist on two cocks. What I was trying to say about Liam, is like a beast when the man fucks, I swear. Kinda can’t believe the two of you have never been together, except yeah, one of you would have to bottom. That was never gonna work with me and Harry so I don’t see working for you. Niam would make a nice dream couple. 

“With me, Liam, Louis it might hard to not get carried away with Louis, Louis being such a prick tease. This new ‘hurt me’ thing he’s pushing is concerning ‘cause he so easily gets Liam a little too worked up, compared to you. S’at’s all I meant. No offense.”

Niall takes a large gulp of beer. “So what is the go-to with Liam if you want to keep Louis from indulging in the mouthy sass? Louis is a challenge, ‘specially when he sounds so needy and ripe for taking.”

“Oh, you know, my first choice is to keep Louis on top of Liam in a sixty-nine, making so that Liam can’t suffocate Louis with that massive cock of his, then it is easy enough for me to add in a good doggie style dicking while they suck each other off. A lot of times we switch it up, you know, I’ll lay on the bed, me and Louis doing each other while Liam fucks him. That position is easy enough for me to tell if Liam is getting too rough with Louis.

“The thing I’ve noticed is that if Louis has got three cocks to think about, his, Liam’s or yours, mine, it kinda kills his mind. Brings him back to life, the old Louis we used to know is back, even if it is only for a little while. Too soon after he gets lost in this hurt-me thing, again. All it takes is for him to see some Myles thing trending. Or he comes across some bottom-Louis meme. It is so destructive. He caves into all the negativity.”

Zayn is reflective for a long pause before he adds what is sincere and painful in his heart given his deception, “I sure hope this job, being out around people and not in an environment where the paps can stalk him, can help him out of this funk. I would rather suffer a thousand deaths than have him be like this forever for one stupid mistake.”

The statement is followed by an unspoken toast to Louis’ between Zayn and Niall. 

Both quietly drink for a few more minutes watching football. Zayn hopes that Niall, and Liam, have accepted these routine invitations of sharing Louis as a sign of Zayn’s commitment to healing his lover’ emotional state. Zayn wallows in self-loathing not wanting Niall or Liam to know he did this. He broke Louis. Niall rubs Zayn’s shoulder and turns off the tv.

Zayn can’t help but notice that the brief conversation about Louis in a sixty-nine has Niall’s dick filling out again within the confines of his briefs. “Got a problem Niall? Already?”

“How about we go wake him? I’d like to try a Liam style 69 with the Zayn topping. What do we even call that threesome? If there is a split-roast, shouldn't we keep with the food theme and call it... I don’t know, how about a banana split?”

Niall begins to pick up the bottles and empty crisps bags to take them to the kitchen before they rejoin Louis.

Zayn’s brief respite has him thinking about a subject from earlier. 

“Oh hey Niall, where was it that you meet that bloke from Boodle’s was it on the green or something? Didn’t you say you were with Rory Mcllroy and some other golfers?”

“No, no, we weren’t golfing, Rory has a Boodle’s membership, a few of us were his guests. Boodle’s is a great place for some privacy. Rory didn’t want to have to worry about being approached by random fans or photographed by press. We were in the formal dining room section when Harrison saw three of us non-members and stopped by our table to welcome us. You know how it is. I thpught he was merely wanting to make a good impression in case we wanted to consider getting on Boodle’s wait-list for a membership.

“After brief introductions, he abruptly changed subjects out of the blue to ask me for Louis’ number. He remembered seeing pictures of Louis with me at the Met. He said he tried to get Louis’ number from Louis’ agency to reach out to him about a job but they said they wouldn't share it because they aren't representing Louis anymore. It was clear by the looks of the other people working at Boodle’s that Harrison likes to hire eye-candy. He did call Louis didn’t he?”

Zayn lights a new cigarette to take with him to the bedroom. Zayn gets off on how Louis‘ lips look with a cigarette between them.

“Yes, he did. Louis met with him yesterday. I kinda pushed Louis to give it a try since, as you said, it is discrete, no paps getting in there. I guess the pay is really good. Louis described everyone working there as ‘the beautiful people’.”

“What kind of job would Louis be working?”

“Waiting tables.”

Niall laughs. “Louis a waiter? No way. He is too Louis-T. I can see him now. A patron asks for one thing and Louis brings the wrong thing, the patron complains. Louis promptly tells the patron to _fuck-off_ , they will just have like what he brought, _deal with it_. It will probably be a thing where they ordered something like avocado toasts, but Louis brings them a burger, pub-style. With an epic eye-roll like only the Tommo can do he chastises them for ordering _too ‘trendy’_!”

Niall’s description of Louis is spot-on of Louis as himself, unlike the person he has become, thanks to Zayn.

The weight Zayn’s actions press regret deeper into his heart and seeps into his voice as he agrees with Niall. 

“Yeah, I know. I can’t see Louis waiting tables either. I could see him giving people whatever the fuck he decides to bring them and telling them to sit and spin if they don't like it. The thing about this job is that Louis really needs a reason to force himself to get out of our flat. Sooner or later he has to start living again. He won’t go near his family to protect their reputation.He is afraid that his shame will be projected onto them. He never goes to Doncaster even though his mates Stan and Hanna keep asking him to come around, get out of London. The job at this club, Boodle’s, so private, with its very discrete clientele, I think working there be a really good distraction for him. Better than Louis thinking about Myles dating rumors, better than nothing but sex to think about.”

Niall picks up on the hint of Zayn’s painful turmoil and decides to tease his mate.

“Ooh right, poor Zayn, always calling us... ‘Niall? Liam? Would you please come over later and help me fuck my twink boyfriend,” Niall doing his best Bradford impersonation, “He is such a cock whore, _I am so exhausted_... all this sex, sex, sex, poor me, please come help!’”


	11. Le Second Exposé

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It gets worse before it gets better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood board for this chapter @ http://palosquared.tumblr.com/

*** 

Invited to Boodle’s by the chief executive of the agency who represents him, excluding the actual agent who handles his affairs, seems curious to Harry. Harry assumes this extremely private meeting has something to do with the buzz about he and Zayn. 

Nick had been proven correct. The appearance of a rekindled “Myles” love-story is diminishing focus on Louis. The former dream couple is trending. Only yesterday the lead story by TMZ the day asked the question _“Are Myles going another mile?”_

Myles is the Ross and Rachel of the UK modeling world. 

Intrigued about Boodle’s, Harry dresses in his finest while purposefully selecting a more conservative look. He makes sure to play up his exceptional assets. Leaving several buttons of his nearly sheer shirt undone that he wears under a clean cut jacket Harry creates a perfect balance of modesty with sex-appeal. 

Like many other elite London gentlemen’s clubs Boodle’s is situated in the St James district. Harry parks near the intersection of St James street and Pall Mall. Entering Boodle’s he finds the chief executive waiting for him in reception chatting with a concierge. William Hatfield introduces her to Harry and she offers to show Harry and Hatfield to “Mr Hatfield’s usual table.” 

The girlish blush by a consummately professional concierge at the sight of Harry speaks volumes. It is her job to interact with the wealthy, the powerful, the famous yet her star-struck demeanor is not an uncommon experience for the charismatic Harry. 

Lead past a formal dining room, a smoking room, a series of game rooms Harry and his host are lead to a large more casual room. 

“This part of Boodle’s” the concierge informs Harry, “is where members and their guest like to congregate for drinks and a lighter fair rather than the more formal dining setting. Enjoy your refreshments gentlemen. Brittany will be right over.” 

The strikingly difference in the atmosphere of this lounge is difficult to overlook. Most of Boodle’s has a more traditional decor. Harry noted that the other rooms were attended by servers in conservative, formal attire, white shirts, black vests and bow ties, neatly pressed black trousers. In this particular lounge the atmosphere is most distinctively very informal. 

All the servers are wearing what would best be described as ‘informal undress’. 

The women server who comes to welcome William and Harry is wearing a sarong-type wrap and the tiniest of bikini tops. Harry is sure that a pair of pasties could offer as much breast coverage. Her sarong with how it ties at the waist has the effect of allowing one leg to be entirely exposed. She is beautiful, tall, thin, ebony skin and very familiar with Hatfield. She asks if he would like “ _his usual_ ”. Hatfield thanks Brittany and says “yes” then turns, querying what might be Harry’s drink of choice. 

Something about the island nature of the server’s dress, undress, prompts Harry to ask if they have any sipping rums. 

“Yes, yes we do, a long list of them. Would you like me to bring a drink menu to you, or cite the rums we offer” and then after a pause where her eyes linger on Harry, she adds, “or might I suggest you let me surprise you with a rum of my choosing. You won’t be disappointed, promise.” 

Her flirtation palpable, Hatfield chimes in. “Yes, Brittany, surprise Mr Styles with your personal selection, would you please.” 

Brittany’s nods. The lingering study of Harry clearly confirmed the flirt with Harry was intensional. 

Harry takes in more of his surroundings once Brittany leaves to get their drinks. 

There are a number of waitresses working the numerous tables spread out into sections where privacy is created by large tropical plants that are the size of small trees. The ambiance has a mix of an island oasis with a mix of exotic influences from around the globe. Hatfield points out that this section of Boodle’s is contrived to compete with the offerings at the Athenian atmosphere that prevails throughout a neighboring gentlemen’s club. 

All but one of the servers are dressed much the same as Brittany. The one exception is a young male server. The lad in his mid-twenties resembles the Disney character Aladdin, if Aladdin were brought to life. He is attractive, middle-eastern decent, perhaps, and wearing only harem-like style of pants rather than sarong. Hanging from around his neck accentuating his beautiful darker skin tone is a gold medallion. The only thing keeping Harry impervious to the effects of his beauty is how much this lad, unfortunately, resembles Zayn. Harry’s distasteful experience with Zayn has imprinted on him a distain for anyone so similar in looks to Zayn, strikingly gorgeous or not. 

Besides, after the weekend affair with Louis, Harry has one type, one obsession. Blue eyes, flawless skin, brown hair with hints of auburn highlights...a body like Louis’, rare in its mix. 

Brittany returns with drinks. Her pretty brown eyes roam over Harry. 

”I hope you enjoy this.” 

Harry hastily takes a sip to show his appreciation. “Mum, it’s good, really good, maybe the best tasting thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Perhaps you should get out more,” Brittany stops herself. Her blatant flirtation as pathetically obvious as was her horrid attempt to make a sexual innuendo about the word “taste”. 

Hatfield smiles and dismisses her clear intent. “Brittany this one is taken.”

“A girl can dream can’t she?” Brittany responds cheekily. “Is their something else you gentlemen would like immediately or should I give you a few minutes?”

Hatfield jumps to say his guest must try the assorted seafood tapas. His rush to please Harry palpable, Harry offers to cover their luncheon costs to reflect his return gratitude. 

“No need for that Harry, you are my guest and the club sends out a monthly billing that covers all fees and any charges,” Hatfiled adds “...and I don’t think you would be comfortable tipping Brittany.”

“Just because she is a little flirtatious? I find Brittany’s behavior flattering to be honest William, it’s no big deal. Comes with the territory of being recognized.”

Anyone who knows Harry well will have witnessed that the not-into-women young man is always a consummate gentleman. Forgivable of advances to a fault. Harry has overt passes made at him constantly. Cougars are particularly bold about their tactics. In this case Brittany is at least close to Harry’s age though she might not know that she doesn't have the right equipment. 

To clarify what he meant about tipping in this oasis Hatfield directs Harry attention to another table served by a different waitress whose party is just preparing to leave. The waitress just as minimally dressed as Brittany. 

The departing members haven’t elected to leave a cash tip on the table, nor does the gentleman tipping hand it to the waitress. He does the unusual thing of slipping the bills to be pinched between her sarong and her skin. This approach is not like anything Harry has ever seen between a patron and a server, outside of a strip club where that sort of thing seems customary.

“Now you see Harry, here, in this fantasy setting, when members come here they want an experience. A break from the stress of the real world without having to leave St James. It’s like walking into an erotic fiction. So you pick your dream-type, for me that is Britany. She is pretty, intuitive, smart as a razor...to smart to be waiting tables actually. She’s driven. See I like that, a young woman being driven. If she were a man, a white man, she probably wouldn't be waiting tables at a gentleman's club, prestigious club or not.

“As a member you can elect to leave a tip with the server or a 25% gratuity will be added at billing. As you can see, most prefer to slip the cash to their server as you saw with the young lady across the way. Wedge it between silken skin and a sarong, bikini top, or...”

“Or?”

“Harry, you must be aware that I have invited you to Boodle’s for a very specific reason.”

Harry is stumped what to say. “Sure, I assumed it is about the Myles spin, sum’ptin like that.”

“No, not that, Harry look over there.” Hatfield nods. 

Harry looks to where he is directed. 

Waiting tables at this gentlemen's club is Louis Tomlinson. 

Same as “Aladdin” Louis wears only pants though his are not a harem style but they are equally casual. They also don’t fit so well. 

Maybe, or perhaps they do. It is possible the pants are meant to show exactly what they show. 

The pants hang low enough below Louis’ tiny waist that is is only the swell of a voluptuous bubble butt that keeps them up. “Kept up” is a bit of a misnomer because with where they sit on Louis’ body leaves plenty of asscrack exposed. 

The party of four men at Louis’ table are just preparing to leave too. One gentleman with a wad of bills in his hand slides the monied-hand along the top of Louis’ shoulder to the back of Louis’ neck. From there his hand slides purposefully slowly down the curvature of Louis’ back. This type of caress Harry knows will elicit a fire of goosebumps across Louis’ skin, at least it did when Harry touched Louis like that. 

Once the man, twice Louis’ age, reaches where the only article of clothing begins his fingers wedge the cash between skin and fabric. It is not lost on Harry how his fingers stay with a pause in this deposit that is more than few seconds longer than necessary. The man is feeling the nirvana that is Louis’ full, voluptuous arse. 

Brittany bringing some sauces that will be to accompany their array of tapas notices Harry’s fascination.

She too looks across the room to what holds Harry’s attention. “Oh, right, Louis, you know Louis, don’t you...everybody loves Louis. Even the straight men wanna go gay for a chance to touch him. Since he started working here the his tables have gone up over 400 perfect in revenus from members’ requests over his predecessor. And the other waiter was a total looker, but Louis, men can’t help but crave piece of that ass ever since that Grimshaw studio sex thing.” 

William is right. Brittany is no dumby. She has measured the change in her earnings of her tables no doubt. 

Brittany’s diatribe about Louis’ popularity had a touch of resentment mixed with admiration. Harry and Brittany watch Louis as he smiles adorably at his tipping benefactor. It bothers Harry to see that smile going to anyone other than him and for a tip no less!

As the men take their leave, Louis sending them off with a parting thanks, Louis glances in Harry’s direction. No sooner does he spot Harry than his pretty smile fades. His eyebrows knit together. A scow forms. 

The room seems suddenly small because Louis makes haste to rush to Harry. He has the attention of most of the people in the room, maybe because of the volatile energy of his approach, or maybe because it is impossible to not look at dat-ass. 

At Harry’s table the his hands go to his hips, his chest heaving, he looks fleetingly at Brittany which has her slinking away. Brittany and everyone watching can feel the impeding confrontation.

“What _are you_ doing here?” He barks at Harry. 

“Louis,” Harry says softly, “I had nothing to do with that, I swear,”

“Right Harry, you _just happened_ to mention something private you witnessed and a recording of it _just happened_ to go to the right hands. You’re a horrid a liar.”

Hatfield refrains from getting into this tiff but the incident has garnered the attention of a manager entering the oasis. Likely the fledgling of a confrontation alerted the other wait-staff to call on him.

His coming to intercede fuels Louis to more rapidly spit out his anger. 

”The envelope left at the Daily Mail was a reused envelope, Harry, half an envelope with the return address of your agency to only indication of where it came from. It had to be someone who has representation with the agency. Funny coincidence isn’t it? And here you sit with William Hatfield head of the same agency, what a surprise!” 

Louis is stopped there when his supervisor takes a hold of an arm. The man’s large hand gripping Louis’ shapely bicep emphasizes how small Louis is. 

“Louis, we don’t address our members or their guests in this manner, ever. Go to the break room and we will discuss repercussions once I have resolved this with our member and his guest.”

Harry knows Louis’ body, its language, its conveyance of his emotions like only a lover can know. It makes his heart a pang of pain to see Louis’ shoulders drop, his face flush as he starts to open his mouth in his defense when he is told again he is dismissed. 

”Louis, you only get one warning. This is your only chance. I will join you in the break room momentarily.”

When Louis eyes meet Harry’s before he turns to walk off all of the agony Louis has been put through is written in them. Harry can see into his soul, the pain that resides within him. He has been demoralized. Broken. It took some courage to confront the one he believes to be the cause but even the dignity of that is out of his hands.

As he wanders between tables, all the wait staff and guests are staring at him, studying him. His pants with their fit exposing the upper portion of his hips, his bum, his asscrack add to this second layer of public embarrassment. Harry needs to run after Louis.

So he does. Leaving the club’s manager and Hatfield, he rushes to try to catch Louis. Louis disappears through a door marked “employees only”.

Brittany intercepts Harry. 

“Mr Styles! Sorry, please remain out here.”

Harry pleads for assistance from Brittany. “Brittany, I need to speak to him. I-I-I... I, it wasn’t me who did that, it wasn't me that went to the Daily Mail. I need to convince him of that, _tell him, tell him I love him._ Too much to ever hurt him like that.”

Brittany gets a uninterpretable look on her face. She nods affirmative like his sincerity, at least, she understands. 

Her return from pursuing Louis is a little too quick for Harry’s liking. Harry he knows this is a bad sign. 

“I’m sorry. Louis only gestured a reply.”

The manager appears to have finished with Hatfield which was surely an apology and conveyance that the disrespectful employee would be handled. Harry’s visit to the club has put Louis’ position that Brittany described as everyones favorite in a less than secure prospect going forward.

The manager comes to Harry. He asks Brittany to give them privacy but not without noting the other thing needing his directive. “...and Brittany, that cellphone in your hand, return it to your locker first please. You know our policies.”

The order has Brittany stepping back into the employees only area. The very brief opening of the door has Harry peeking in with hope to see Louis. All he sees is rows of small lockers, obviously for employees personal affects, then there is a small galley kitchen, again like for employees to warm up a meal or refrigerate their own food when on their breaks. Beyond that Harry assumes is an area where Louis will face the consequence of his bad behavior. 

It couldn’t be any worse. 

Brittany returns, phone stowed, she heads to get back to attending her tables.

The supervisor, Matthews, addresses Harry. “Mr Styles my deepest apology for the conduct of our employee. He has been exemplary, very popular with out members, exceedingly so but we do not tolerate any behavior like that. Please accept my offer of a day pass to come to Boodle’s again without a member invite. I will have that arranged with the conceirge at the front. You can redeem this invite at your leisure. Enjoy our facitlty and there will be no charges for anything you require.”

“Thank you Mr Matthews but that is not necessary. Lous was reacting to something I would rather keep between the two of us. Louis did nothing wrong, don’t reprimand him, please. In fact, give him _my apology._ Tell him, tell him, that it was not me. I would never that! He will know what I mean.”

***

The next day Harry wakes because his phone is blowing up with texts alerts. 

A split second of his heart leaping with joy to see the messages are from Louis before that joy obliterated. 

A series of texts from Louis cursing Harry ends with some mention of the Daily Mail. 

Harry is confused. The Daily Mail thing is old news. Isn’t it?

Heart racing, knowing Louis blocked him, Harry pulls up today’s Daily Mail. 

Front page, picture of Louis, Louis wearing those pants that reveal too much; his arse-crack, the sumptuousness of his bubble butt evident. Even though Louis is facing away he can’t be misidentified. His unique tattoos and bone structure are one of a kind as much as his far-too publicized bottom. 

The photo also captures Louis scrunching his shoulders like one would do if they had just been stabbed in the back. The picture must have been taken seconds after Louis left the table, expecting to be reprimanded. Louis’ body language shows the physical pain of the emotional damage the after effect of trying to confront Harry only to cause himself more trouble. 

Headlines? “Shammed former Grimshaw model Louis Tomlinson found revealing his best Ass-sets at private gentleman’s club for tips. Guest of the club shares details of his ‘services’.”


	12. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone confesses: Harry, Greg, Zayn(!) and Louis!  
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mood board for the previous chapter palosquared.tumblr.com

Harry hopes to enlist Nick’s help with reaching Louis. 

“I can’t come in today,” Harry begins. 

Nick abrasively cuts him off. “ _Oh, right Harry_ , I bet you can’t.” Nick’s caustic tone stings. “So you coincidentally happen to go to Boodle’s with the head of your agency and _the very next day_ the Daily Mail is back up Louis’ ass.”

“Nick, I swear, I had nothing to do that, either time. I couldn’t...I wouldn’t. You don’t understand how Louis affects me!”

“Oh I think I do Harry. You said yourself that you can be a kind of ‘primadona’, accustom to the lime-light. I like that you are driven, but this far?” 

Harry blurts out “No Nick _you_ really don’t understand,”

Sounding suddenly more furious, Nick cuts Harry off. “Today’s Daily Mail shifts the focus off my collection right back onto Louis. They have dug up up photos of Zayn with Louis. Saying there was a ‘Zouis Era’ between Myles Era 1.0 and Myles 2.0. The way they tell it Louis is a slutty cock whore, hungry for any attention. 

“The timing of this new Louis exposé has me thinking that all this time you’ve wanted Zayn back. You have hidden these feelings, manipulating publicity about Louis. It’s inconceivable the hatred, that you are willing to stoop so low as to...”

Harry is gobsmacked. He needs to end to this misunderstanding once and for all. Impulsively, without thought, he blurts out “But I love him!” 

“That is exactly the problem!” An exasperated Nick counters, “You want Zayn back so bad that discovering Louis is with him you decide to destroy Louis! When I asked you to play along with the Myles-thing I had no idea that you were harboring feelings for Zayn. I thought it was long over between you. Never figured you to be a subversive, manipulative twat.” 

Harry snaps out of his stupor. “No, no, Nick, I’m not in love with Zayn, I mean that I am madly, completely in love with Louis!” 

Harry takes a deep breath at the start a long story. “Louis doesn't remember this, but we met as kids. I was at one of my first modeling jobs at some pool location. Louis was there with some friends, his sisters, his mum. His mum was pregnant at the time. I don't think he ever gave me a second thought after that day but I never got over the way he made me feel. I wrote about it in my diary for a year. I drew pictures of him, I was only a child but totally in love for the first time with someone I’d never see again!

“I swear to you Nick, I have had no contact with the Daily Mail. It’s true that I came in to the studios that night but I was leaving when Greg showed up. It was Greg who down loaded the video. I only mentioned the thumb-drive to Louis because I was perplexed by what he seemed to be. 

“He was with Liam one night, with Niall at the Met next. I also promise that I had no idea that Zayn was his boyfriend not until you told me. And yes, it is true that I was at Boodle’s yesterday. I was invited by my agency but I didn’t know that Louis was working there. 

“It was obvious the men he served wanted to touch him with his asscrack seductively peeking out above the waist of his pants. One member made it a point to run his big hand over Louis to push a wad of cash into those obscenely low-hung pants to cop a feel. The second Louis saw me he turned angry, confrontational...” Harry pauses looking at the headline picture. 

It occurs to him the photo vindicates his defense. Louis’ location appears to be the employees area and Brittany had returned far too fast with a phone in her hand. 

“Nick, I know who took the photo!” 

***

Harry wasn't the only one not coming to work. Understandably, neither was Zayn. Harry is about to knock at Zayn’s door prepared to received with more hostility from Zayn and Louis than he had from Nick, when he gets a call he can’t ignore. 

“Greg?” 

“Harry, hi, how’s it going?” 

“How’s it going? _How’s going!_ I leave you countless messages, you never reply and now you are like, ‘hey, how’s it going Harry?’” 

“Well you probably know why this call. I'm sitting here looking at the Daily Mail and the picture of Louis Tomlinson’s insanely perfect ass. I need to confess to him, to beat the ever living shit out of Malik and go right to the Daily Mail with the truth.” 

Harry steps back from the door, turns and walks down the hall as to not be met by Zayn or Louis by chance. He needs to confirm he heard what he thought he heard. “What are you saying?” 

“That thumbdrive that I copied? I gave it to Zayn, though not really intentionally. It was sort of an accident, I went to confront him after seeing you and Louis leave a club together. I wanted to get to the bottom of all this sharing Louis around stuff. It was never that I intended to give the drive to Zayn, but it had to be Zayn who sent it to the video to the Mail.” 

“A reused envelope,” Harry tells Greg, “the only identifier on the envelope containing the drive was the return address of the agency representing me which also just happens to represent Zayn. Louis knew that much about the source of the drive, he assumed it was me having it out for him.” 

“Harry I really don’t understand who did this new photo, or why anyone would do that to Louis. As much as I am to blame for downloading the video, I can’t let this go on, I mean...just look at how Louis is scrunching his shoulders together! It looks like he was stabbed in the back or something, like he is literally in pain! I am at the airport now waiting to board a flight to London.“ 

Harry could say that Louis’ pained scrunch was his doing. Confess he was the cause of Louis getting reprimanded and most likely having a metaphorical feeling of being stabbed in the back but for now he has a greater issue before him. 

“Look Greg, you do what you have to do, but I am outside of Zayn and Louis’ flat right now. I don't understand how Zayn could be so cruel to Louis but I came here to confront Zayn and pray that Louis will listen to me.” 

Greg laughs laden with distain as he says, “Well you got Zayn on fitness and mass but my guess is he is a dirty fighter, probably a biter too!” 

*** 

Zayn was in no condition to have a go with Harry. That he managed a glancing blow to the left side of Harry’s chin was the only sign or their fight other than Harry’s redden knuckles. 

Louis had broken up with Zayn again. Zayn was gutted. Perplexing as it might be that he has been the one destroying the person he loves, the root of Zayn’s twisted mental state is not Harry’s concern. 

There was no need for Harry to ask Zayn why. His only purpose with Zayn was to respond from his heart. Harry must get to Doncaster. 

Harry doesn’t bother get himself with ice for his knuckles. on the seat beside him as he drives is his diary. Once in Doncaster he will put the journal in Louis’ hands in hopes that once Louis reads it there will be a path forward between them. Particularly now that he knows Louis, broken and lost, left his asshat boyfriend and returned home presumably to go into hiding. 

***

The closest parking to the Tomlinson residence is down the block. Harry composes himself. He is nervous now that he is here, ready to hand Louis his journal like the journal is literally his heart. 

A mix hopefulness. 

A lot of nervousness. 

A fear of rejection weigh Harry down. 

The battered hand tapping the front door hurts from the contact but it’s the dryness of his throat that irritates Harry most. 

Opening the door is a sister perhaps? Her resemblance to Louis is so strong. Pretty, delicate features, expressive eyes her lips are perhaps the most distinctly different aspect of her beauty. They are most certainly fuller compared to Louis’.

“Harry Styles?” she says with distain. Looking back over her shoulder to someone out of Harry’s view she shouts, “We have that rat Harry Styles at the door.” 

The sound of several feet coming down stairs coincides with Jay Tomlinson, another daughter and then two more, twins, who may have been tumbling over each other in the rush to join appear at the door. Five sets of expressive eyes, familiar in their resemblance to Louis’, inspect Harry. Not one set of eyes look at him kindly. 

“Mr Styles?” Jay says with a coolness to her voice. Her diminutive stature and reputation for being highly charitable don’t dilute how intimidating she is at this moment.

“Mrs Tomlinson, um is Louis here? I need to talk to him.”

“He’s here,” Jay says, “and I don’t care what you need. Get off my stoop before I have you thrown off.”

Jay starts to slam the door when Harry pushes his diary to the oldest sister who first opened the door. “Please, Lottie? You are Lottie, yes? Please give this to Louis ask him to read it.”

***

Several hours later Harry is sitting in his car. 

Like a stalker he watches the Tomlinson’s house. 

He has considered that the diary may have been thrown out without Louis ever seeing it. Or Louis may have set it on fire.

The sight of the twins coming out the door it a return to the hopeful. They walk in the direction of his car when one of the girls stops, directs her sister’s attention to where Harry is sat. The two girls turn around and walk back each occasionally looking over their shoulder like to confirm Harry is still sitting there. 

The hopefulness of seeing the twins is fleeting. Several more hours pass. 

Harry realizes that he drifted off when his sleep is interrupted by a soft tap on his window.

Louis is a sight; seemingly smaller, more beautiful and delicate. Maybe this is because he has been through so much, the strain of the negative publicity, the decision to leave his boyfriend, which was one positive tidbit of information Harry learned in his brief bout with Zayn.

In one hand he holds Harry’s diary. He steps back from the car like one does so the passenger door can be opened by the driver from within.

Harry’s heart leaps as he makes the invitation. Opening the door Louis quickly slips in.

“You got to explain this to me, what are you trying to do? One day your sabotaging me career, the next day you're doing what? What does it mean that you had this crush on me years ago? I mean I read this and honestly I don’t remember this day we met, but when I read this part about the day at the pool to me mum, she does. At least she remembers our families meeting. She said she remembered that she and your mum meant to get in touch after that day but it kept getting put off until so much time passed that it was one of those things that never happened.”

Harry notes several things about this confused Louis. 

He does not make eye contact. His hands fidget with the diary as he plays with its boarder with it on his lap. 

A few times he looks at Harry’s hands but he does this fleeting. Most likely he is curious why they look so dreadful but he doesn't ask.

Another thing Harry notes is how Louis smells amazing. Like baby powder and a hint of cedar or something woodsy. It takes massive restraint to not touch Louis because one slight violation and any chance of reconcile could be lost. 

“That day at the pool was the best day of my life until recently. It was my first time feeling that kind of love. Love, infatuation, want...I wanted to see you again so bad. I dreamt about you, as you know if you read all of it.”

“I did.” Louis says still avoiding Harry’s eyes and adding a slight rocking notion to his finger-fiddling. 

Encouraged that Louis read it, Harry is hopefull. “Then you know my sexuality was born in thinking about you. I watched how you had all those other boys wanting your attention. They seemed to need to have your smile be for them, your praise be for their skills. I would have these dreams that I was playing with the lot of your mates. In my dreams you’d like how good I was and the next thing I knew I would wake from my dreams with sweat coating my body and my cock stiff having spilled cum on myself.”

“Harry,” Louis says softly. He trembles slightly. He rocks a little more pronouncedly. Harry holds his breath in waiting. 

Louis’ hands abandon the journal laying on his lap to cover his face.

“The thing is I’m couple years older than you, the boy you were, was just a boy. After I read this me mum and me search the internet went for early Harry Styles modeling pictures. You didn’t look Harry Styles that I first became aware of, I mean, you had straighter hair as a younger lad when you started modeling,” 

Louis takes his hands down and chances his first look at Harry. It is a second full eye contact before he averts his eyes angain and resumes fiddling with the journal and some more rocking.

“My memory of the first time I saw you was when you were _a man_. You were already five-foot-nine, taller than me, and still growing. You were sweeping the modeling world. With you smile, charm, green eyes, those legs of yours that seem to stretch forever, your hair with its curls... and the tattoos. You had begun getting tattos.

“By the time I was breaking into the London market, I was still unknown. You were already a huge star. I saw the press. You with Zayn. It was surreal when Myles was over between you two and I met Zayn. I couldn’t believe that Zayn Malik wanted to be with me. It was like a kick to think I was with the one who had touched the god, Harry Styles. My tattoos began ‘cause Zayn wanted to ink me. Me triangle, me skateboarder...but then he didn't notice what I began to do. You got the rose, I got a dagger, you got whatever the fuck the fluttery thing is on your torso and I got ‘It is what it is’...”

Louis stops his fidgeting and rocking and holds eye contact with Harry as he completes his confession. 

“I didn't remember this day at the pool, but years later you became me obsession, me wet dreams just like I had been yours. I inked you in me skin while in another man’s bed. And then we met, in me view the first time, and you immediately hated me,”

Harry leaps in. “But no! I was confused, I,”

Louis takes back control of his side of confession. 

“Listen Harry, I know what happened,” Louis allows himself to reach over to place one hand on one of Harry’s battered ones. Tenuous and soft he takes care to make it so Harry’s hand rest of a bed that his plam. 

“I need to finish, please. The latest DM came out. I was so freaked, like really freaked, that you did that. Yet, I knew it couldn’t be you. Later when I looked at it I remember Britany coming in behind me, she did something quick at her locker. I didn't think about it at the time, I was sure I was going to loose me job. 

“So this morning I am melting down at how you can hate me so much, how Brittany must too, when Zayn pulls out this ring, gets down on one knee. I don't know how to explain it but no one proposes like he did. I don’t even remember exactly what he said but it was part proposal and part apology and a lot of it was about you. Then it got really bizarre, like he said things like what he wanted me to do with Liam, with Niall was _all for you_...I got this instantly sick feeling.” 

Harry heart races. While he should be content with his hand merely on Louis’ he must fight to not take Louis in his arms. Harry fears if he presses Louis in the slightest he looses Louis. 

“I suddenly had all these weird thoughts going thorough my head. I didn’t know what to believe is real and what is twisted by having me private life exposed. The only thing that was becoming clear was that Zayn isn’t the one. He was talking a lot of shit, making no sense. I said ‘no’ to his proposal. Told him I had to get out of London. Rethink my life. That is when he got more weird. He told me that _he made me_ , that before we dated I was just another pretty face with a nice ass. Then he repeated that he made me, and added that he broke me, if I married him he would make me again. He called me his marionette.”

Louis laughs. It is that kind of laugh that comes when one knows they've lost everything so whatthefuck. 

“So I came home. You come along. I was going to burn this diary when me mum gave it to me. Curious, I began to read it. Then me sisters told me you were parked on the street. Oh and Greg James called. Said he wanted to see me but he had to confess something first.”

Louis’ long pause is Harry’s opening.

“What did Greg say?”

“He said it was him who took the video off Liam’s computer, he was saving it to try to get Zayn to let me be with him, like I was with Liam on Zayn’s demands. 

“He explained that he came into the studios that night and you were running out with a look of shock like you wanted to unsee what you saw. He clarified that you never possessed the drive and he never meant it to go anywhere. He made one last confession that he wanked off to it about a thousand times, but after he saw us leaving a club he made the mistake of waving it in front of Zayn. Zayn snatched it...it was Zayn who sent it to the Daily Mail. 

“My boyfriend. My boyfriend who asked me to share me arse because it makes him feel, like more the man if I come back like some broken marionette. That explains how weird Zayn was. As he was proposing he was confessing too. I still can’t believe he did that. But then he knew how to play you. He knows what you like, your type. He knows your professional fears, that if you could replace him with Nick, another could replace you. He really only under estimated how much I have kept secret from him about you...”

Louis resumes play with the edge of the journal. It consumes his focus like a safe harbor for both their confessions. 

His face in profile can’t hide the bashful smile that reveals Louis is caustiously optimistic about what is going to be said.

“...but to think I had this obsession who I have inked into my skin and years before that I was his...your obsession.”

Louis looks to Harry, wordlessly questioning where they stand.

Harry answers with a kiss.

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been an immeasurable pleasure to have Zhong_truly polish out so many typos by Typos! Thanks Bae! 
> 
> Epilogue?  
> Leave a comment (see below) and maybe a snippet of prospective epilogue comes to you. Thanks for reading/recommending!


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